


Reincarnation

by hunter_king



Series: Supernatural - Wincest [49]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:35:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22231900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunter_king/pseuds/hunter_king
Summary: After 200 years of rotting due to the loss of his soul mate, Dean is brought back to find that his lover has been reincarnated. The only problem is that Sam doesn't remember anything about their past. Not to mention, he's a hunter now. And someone from their previous life has come back to ruin any chances they may have at a new life together.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Supernatural - Wincest [49]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1190095
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I took some pointers on vampires from the show The Vampire Diaries for this fic.   
> AU. Sam and Dean are not related.  
> Written for the January edition of the SMPC.  
> Beta'd by gatorgurl94

The air was thick with the smell of blood. Its copper scent surrounded him, covered him like a blanket that he just couldn’t shake. Normally, the smell would entice him. Make him want more – want to bathe himself in it and drink deep until there was nothing left. But this time it was different. This time, it was the blood of the man he loved engulfing him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. 

When he had become a vampire nearly two hundred years ago, everything had seemed perfect. Nothing could hurt him – he was invincible. Crosses, holy water, garlic – they were unpleasant, sure, but they couldn’t kill him. He’d felt better than he’d ever felt in his entire life as a mortal. Human emotions meant nothing to him and it was great. For a little while. 

People were nothing to him in the past. His maker had taught him that they were a means to an end. Happy meals on legs is what he liked to call them. And there had been no consequences when he’d taken a life. The law couldn’t touch him and he had no one to answer to. Life had been perfect. Until about thirteen years ago.

That’s when he’d met him. The young man was in a small town no one had ever heard of that he’d been tearing through with some other vampires he hung out with. They had been terrorizing the town for a few days and he’d been having the time of his life. Then one night, he walked into a bar with the intention of drinking everyone inside dry and then taking the good stuff home with him to indulge on later. As soon as he walked in, he was drawn to him. The other vampire had been sitting in one of the booths in the back with another young man. Instantly, he felt jealousy tug at him from somewhere deep inside. At first, he tried to fight it. He did everything in his power to make the feelings go away – tried to ignore the pull of those dormant emotions fighting to break free.

Eventually, when he realized that there was nothing he could do, he gave up and decided to walk over. The young man's hazel eyes instantly locked on his moss greens and he felt heat surge through him. He needed him – _now_. It didn’t take long to get rid of the human the young man was with. All he had to do was grab him by the shoulder and keep eye contact. After that, it was just a matter of telling him that he didn’t want to be with this man and that there was a cute blonde over on the other side of the bar that had been eying him up. 

There were many perks to being a vampire – super strength, super speed, super hearing – but compulsion was definitely his favorite. He could make anyone do anything he wanted them to and it was very convenient. Also, it got him out of some sticky situations in his time. Especially after he met the love of his life and his whole world changed. He could make people forget that he had ever been there. It came in handy when he needed to feed.

Once he had the man out of the way, the rest was history. They instantly clicked. The younger vampire brought him back from the dark side eventually and it all worked out. People were no longer viewed by him as just food – they were not happy meals on legs. The only time they were to be fed on was when absolutely necessary. Vampires needed human blood to survive, but there was no reason to take it all. Snatch, eat, erase – that was his new motto. All he had to do was compel someone to behave while he fed and then compel them to forget afterward. It was the easiest thing in the world. And there was no body to clean up when he was finished. 

Unfortunately, just because he no longer killed humans, he was still a vampire. And there were still people out there who dedicated their lives to kill his kind. Slayers – they didn’t care that he was a reformed killer, or that he only fed on people to survive now, never to kill. They didn’t care that he was in love with another vampire and they were living pretty normal lives. All they cared about was that they weren’t human and they needed to be killed for that.

Which is why he was in this predicament currently. They’d been out one night and had inadvertently caught the attention of a slayer. Another young couple had been the target of the night, and before they could feed, the slayer attacked. Fortunately, they’d managed to escape, however not unscathed. The slayer had gotten a good hit on his lover. Dead man's blood – it was the only thing that could hurt them. In large quantities, it could kill them. 

He’d been worried about his lover. But the younger vampire brushed it off and begged him not to concern himself with such nonsense. Nonsense – those were his lover's words, not his. Any time the younger vampire was injured, it was something for him to worry about. He didn’t care if his lover was a vampire and he had the same abilities and the same strength as him. When his mate was injured, he was right there with him, worrying about him and making sure that he would pull through.

Tonight, there was no stopping it. His lover was dying in his arms and there was nothing he could do about it. The sound of him choking on his own blood rang through his ears as he held him tightly, begging him not to leave him. That slayer had gotten him with silver – he’d poisoned him. There was no cure for this amount of the poison – once it was in a vampire’s system, the damage was done. He knew his lover wasn’t going to pull through, but he refused to accept it.

“Samuel, please,” he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Please, baby, don’t leave me. I can’t live without you.” He knew that Samuel wasn’t going to answer. He was too weak to keep his eyes open for long, let alone have a conversation with him. But he didn’t care. He needed to keep begging, not that it would change things. “Baby, please just keep your eyes open. I need you. We both know that. You know that I can’t function without you. Samuel, please?”

A few more stuttered, choking breaths escaped Samuel's parted lips before he fell limp in his arms. It was over. In a way, he felt relieved because now his lover wasn’t suffering anymore, but that was just a small part of him that he shoved back. “No!” he screamed, deep and guttural as he pulled Samuel to his chest and held him tightly. His fingers gripped the base of his lover's skull, carding through his long brown locks as he pulled Samuel's head into his chest. “Oh God, please no,” he sobbed. “Samuel, please God, no. Baby, I need you, please?”

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there holding the lifeless body of the man he loved, but he knew that the sun had been up when it started and now it was nowhere to be seen. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, carrying Samuel in his arms as he walked towards their king-sized bed. Once he was close enough, he lay Samuel's body onto the mattress, running his fingers through his hair one last time. Another tear slipped down the bridge of his nose and landed on Samuel's cheek as he leaned in and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to his dead lover's forehead. 

It had been thirteen years since he’d taken pleasure in killing someone, but tonight that was going to change. Samuel's death would be avenged. As he walked out of their home, he left a trail of kerosene behind him, lighting a match once he was off the porch and tossing it over his shoulder. He didn’t look back as flames engulfed their house, destroying everything he’d known for the last decade of his life.

Finding the slayer wasn’t hard. Apparently, he frequented the club they’d first met him at quite a bit. A lot of vampires liked to go there for a quick meal. Drunk patrons were always the easiest to manipulate – he was guilty of doing so quite a bit himself. But he wasn’t worried about a quick fix tonight. All he cared about was finding that slayer and giving him a dose of his own medicine. 

In actuality, it didn’t take all that long. And luring him out of the building was even easier. Once their eyes locked, he walked towards the back exit, quickly leaving the building. He may have been a badass at one point in his life, but Samuel had changed all of that. A wide smirk came to his face when the door swung open behind him and the slayer emerged. It was honestly going to feel good to sink his teeth into someone for sport. Hell, it had been too long since he let his true nature shine.

Almost as soon as the door slammed behind the slayer, he attacked. Dean had been ready for it though – he’d anticipated the attack and was able to counter without much effort. The slayer knew what he was doing, Dean would give him that. But he was no match for a vengeful vampire. Soon, Dean had him on the defensive and that was it. Once the slayer was disarmed, he was helpless, Dean holding the smaller man tight to his chest, one arm around his throat as he cut off his oxygen supply.

“You should have just left us alone,” he chastised, jerking his arm when the slayer tried to get away, effectively cutting of his air supply even further. “We weren’t hurting anyone. The only time we came out to feed was when it was absolutely necessary. And even then, we only took what we needed and it was always from willing donors.” Again, he jerked his arm, getting very frustrated with the slayer’s attempts to escape. “Now he's gone. You took _everything_ from me. And now, I’m going to take everything from you.”

Without another thought, he sank his teeth into the slayer’s neck. His extended canines tore into the slayer’s flesh, allowing his blood to flow into Dean's mouth at a fast rate. He didn’t waste time as he drank deeply, only stopping when he felt the slayer go limp in his arms. It hadn’t been as satisfying as he thought it would have. Sure, he hadn’t been under the false impression that it would bring Samuel back, but he thought he would have at least gotten some sort of pleasure out of it. But there was nothing – he still felt hollow.

Only when he’d drained the last drop of blood from the slayer did he allow the man’s body to fall from his arms. Dean didn’t even bother trying to hide the evidence of what he had done. What was anyone going to do to him if they found out? Nothing – that’s what they were going to do. No one had the means to hurt him. He was invincible. Of course, he didn’t feel like that now, but he knew that wasn’t the case. 

Dean walked for a good hour before he finally found somewhere he could be alone. There was a dark alley he and Samuel would often frequent when their lust became too great and they couldn’t make it back to their home. It was only fitting that he sit there and let the pain and sorrow of his loss sweep over him again. Slowly, he allowed his body to slide down the cold bricks, their rough edges digging into his coat and scratching his back. He remembered a time when those bricks had been scratching against his back for a completely different reason and it brought hot tears to the back of his eyes.

He had never been one to cry. Really, after he became a vampire, there was no need for it. Nothing mattered enough in his life to cry. But now, sitting here on the alley floor where he and Samuel had made love countless times, he allowed all of his emotions – all of the pain and the ache of his loss – to consume him. This was it. He was finished. Samuel was gone, and there was nothing left for him to live for. Without Samuel, his life was meaningless. Dean knew that all he would feel for the eternity that he had staring him in the face was agony without him. And he wasn’t willing to just let it happen. If there was one thing he could control, it was his own fate. 

But the sun was coming up soon and sleep was pulling at his consciousness. Dean just didn’t have the energy to stand up and search for a stake. So instead, he closed his eyes, allowing the sleep to pull him under. Maybe then he would at least get to dream that he was still with his love. At least he could live one more day with Samuel in his head and pretend like everything was still perfect in their world.

Except one day turned into a week. And that week bled into another month. Soon, his body desiccated from lack of blood flow and he remained in that same alley. He became a corpse – unable to move or speak, but still alive in there somewhere. All he needed was a little blood to bring him back from the grave. Not that he was actually wishing that upon himself.


	2. Chapter Two

His whole body ached. His veins felt like sandpaper and it was pure agony to move. Nothing made sense right now. All he could think about was Samuel. Where was he? What had happened? And why did he feel like he had spent the last century starving to death? Slowly, he cracked his eyes open, flinching as light flooded his world. It felt like he hadn’t seen the light in years. “Samuel?” he croaked, his vocal cords grinding together painfully from lack of use, causing him to practically choke. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt like leather against his gums. “Samuel?!” he called once more, sending him into another coughing fit.

There was no answer. Samuel was nowhere to be seen and Dean was starting to panic now. As he started to push himself into a seated position, his bones cracked and he felt weak, forcing him to fall back. What the hell was happening? And where was Samuel? Nothing was making sense and it was making him feel uneasy. 

It made no sense. Samuel was always right by his side and now he wasn't even answering him when he called for him. 

He didn't remember a lot from the night before, which led him to believe that it had been a crazy one. And judging by how weak he felt, he was guessing that they'd gotten some bad blood. Usually, he and Samuel went to donors to make sure they weren't getting any extras in their food supply – drugs were not something that he and Samuel liked to deal with. Their senses were already heightened and it was hard enough to control their urges when they weren't taking enhancements. The last thing they needed was to be flying high on whatever shit the donor was pumping into their body for a good time.

Maybe last night they'd picked a bad one. It wasn't like they could be perfect all of the time. And they had been drinking a little alcohol so their judgment may have been off. Yes, that had to have been it. After all, that explained why he felt like such garbage right now. 

With as much effort as he could muster, Dean pushed himself onto his side, groaning in pain as it felt like his bones were rubbing together. “Samuel, darling, I think we got a little shitfaced last night!” he called out, chuckling to himself. Another groan escaped his lips as he pressed his fist into the ground, using what little strength he had to push himself into a kneeling position. “We should probably be more careful about taking new donors. I think that girl from last night was on something!”

A small smile came to his lips when he felt a hand pressed against his shoulder. Finally, Samuel was here and he didn't have to worry about why he wasn't answering him. Maybe Samuel was feeling just as shitty as he was and this was his way of getting Dean to shut up. However, when he looked up into the beautiful face of the hand's owner, his smile quickly turned to a frown.

This wasn't Samuel. “Joanna?” he asked, his browns creasing in confusion. It had been years since he'd seen Joanna. Back before he met Samuel and he was still your typical horror movie vampire, he and Joanna had been close. _Very_ close. He had actually given her the gift of vampirism. Or at least back then he'd thought it was a gift. Now he knew it was more of a curse than anything. Joanna had left him when he'd gotten too out of hand and she finally realized that he was never going to stop killing. And back then, he'd believed that to be true as well. Samuel changed all of that. “What are you doing here?” he asked, shrugging her hand off his shoulder. “Where's Samuel?”

The anger was clear on Dean's face as her hand was pushed away. Joanna knew that Dean had a temper and he wasn't to be messed with. But she also knew that her friend had changed. She had been keeping tabs on him over the years, and she knew that Samuel had made him become a better man – made him into the person that she had known before either of them had this curse placed on them. And she could tell now that he wasn't just mad – he was scared.

Honestly, she had no idea how to handle this. Samuel was gone and Dean wasn't going to take that information lightly. After all, Dean had decided to desiccate when he lost Samuel and now Joanna had brought him back from the grave, essentially. But she had good reason. Samuel may be gone, but Joanna had seen him – sure it wasn't Samuel necessarily, but the resemblance was too much to just let him slip on by. Dean needed to see this boy and decide for himself if he wanted to just rot away again. Joanna was doing her part. 

“Dean, what year is it?” Joanna asked, figuring that was the best place to start. It was probably going to take him a little while to process that he had been essentially dead for the last 200 or so years. At least Joanna was hoping it would. That way she could just break all of the bad news at once and then sugar coat it with the good news directly after. Sure, she was aware that there was probably going to be a breakdown still, but at least the good news might help with that breakdown.

Again, Dean knit his brows in confusion. What year is it? Really? Like he didn't know what year it was. “What are you talking about?” he demanded, giving his head a small shake. “It's 1842.” Now that he was looking at Joanna, she seemed...different. “What are you wearing?” Her attire was all wrong. She was wearing pants! That was just unheard of. And her shirt was practically hanging off her body it was so loose. And the colors? God, it was almost insulting.

And there it was. Just as she had suspected. Dean had no idea that he had been desiccated for so long. She wasn't familiar with desiccation or how to handle vampires who just came back. Obviously, he was going to require a lot more blood than the bag she had offered him to get his body at least semi-functional again. It was clear that he was extremely weak still and blood would definitely help with that. But she didn't know about the memory loss. 

This time when she placed her hand on his shoulder, Dean didn't push it away. “Dean, I'm going to tell you something and it's going to be very confusing at first. But I need you to have an open mind and just listen to me.” When she received the nod, she could tell that Dean was still suspicious, but she needed to get this out there. “It's not 1842 anymore. It's 2018. You've been desiccated for about 200 years.”

“Desiccated?” Dean snorted. “I don't think so.” He'd heard of desiccation and that was definitely not something that he was interested in. And it wasn't like a vampire could _accidentally_ desiccate. There was no shortage of human blood, after all which meant he would have had to do it to himself. Something extremely horrible would have had to happen for him to go to those extreme lengths. Suddenly, it all became clear and the worst possible thought popped into his head. But no, that wasn't possible. And if it had happened, then he didn't want to be here. Fear overtook him as he shoved Joanna's hand off his shoulder again, desperately trying to get his weak body to move. “Where's Samuel?!” he demanded once more. “Samuel?! Samuel, where are you?!”

Although energy felt like it was coursing through his veins, he couldn't force his body to stand. After the first few attempts, Joanna finally used a little more force to keep him down as she grabbed his cheeks and forced him to look into her eyes. “Dean, look at me!” she ordered, giving him a gentle squeeze to let him know she wasn't playing around. “Samuel is gone. He died the night you decided to starve yourself. A slayer attacked you both and he didn't make it.”

Memories hit him like a bus, overwhelming him to the point where he fell onto his back once more. He remembered it all like it was yesterday – and to him, it had been just yesterday. Dean could almost still taste the blood of that retched slayer sliding down his throat. Could almost taste the sweet revenge quenching his thirst and wetting his palate. The memory made his stomach grumble. God only knew how long it had been since the last time he'd eaten. 

But Samuel was gone. That thought had him reeling. He hadn't been away from Samuel in decades and now he was gone... _forever_. Never again would he feel Samuel's cool hands on his skin. Feel his warm breath puffing against his ear as they made sweet love. He would never hear the softness of his lover's beautiful voice or look into his champagne hazel eyes. It was too much to bear. “Why did you bring me back?!” he demanded, blinking back tears as he pushed himself onto his knees once more.

It tore at her heart to see her old friend like this. Joanna hadn't meant to upset him, but she knew this was necessary. If he was ever going to get another shot at being happy, this boy was his ticket. He looked exactly like Samuel and from what Joanna could tell, he had that same sweet temperament to him as well. After all, it wasn't like Joanna hadn't done her research. She hadn't stalked him, per se, but she did do a little recon after she first saw him and this crazy idea popped into her head.

And it was crazy. In the few weeks that Joanna had been studying this boy, she learned quite a bit. His name was Sam – _not_ a coincidence, she was sure – and he was a junior in college. Sam was majoring in law and his girlfriend was the captain of the cheerleading team. Not that Joanna thought she would pose a threat to Dean – no, it was actually the other way around. She needed to play this smart if she was going to make sure everyone got out of this alive.

Then again, Dean had changed. Joanna had been a witness to that over the years he had been with Samuel. Hopefully no one would be in danger when Dean and Sam finally met. But Joanna was going to be cautious just in case. After all, if there was one person in the world that could never be trusted, it was a vampire. Now she was starting to rethink this plan a little bit. No, it was too late for that. Dean was already awake and she could see the anguish in his eyes about the loss of Samuel. She didn't want to be the cause of him taking another long nap. Besides, she would make sure no one got hurt – she had to.

“I know you probably don't want to hear this right now, but it was because of a boy,” Joanna started to explain. Her hand shot out and her index finger pressed against Dean's lips when he tried to speak. “You need to hear me out. I heard about what happened to Samuel about a decade ago. And I was devastated. I spent eight years trying to find you, but I just assumed you didn't want to be found and I gave up. Then I saw him. This guy, Dean he looks exactly like Samuel. At first I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, but then I saw him again. And again. He's not a figment of my imagination. He's real.”

At first, Dean wanted to slap Joanna. The last thing he wanted to do was jump back into the dating pool right now. He'd just remembered that the love of his life had been brutally murdered by a slayer and she was already trying to hook him up?! However, as she continued her explanation, his interest was piqued. 

If Samuel really was alive, then he had something to live for again. Without him, all he wanted to do was sleep – not be part of the world in any way, shape or form. Just lie down and never get back up. Staring down eternity without the love of your immortal life was not something Dean wouldn't even wish upon his worst enemy. But now Joanna was telling him that Samuel was back and he needed to investigate this. After all, people didn't just come back from the dead. And it wasn't like he had miraculous luck or anything, so there had to be something he was missing. “What's the catch?” he asked in a serious tone, knowing there had to be one.

A small frown came to Joanna's lips when Dean spoke. She knew that she was going to have to tell him eventually, but she had been hoping that she'd have a little more time to hash out a decent plan. This needed to be worded just right or else the whole thing could go up in flames. “I don't know a lot about this guy, but I do know some,” Rachel started. “I didn't want to wake you up until I knew for sure something was going to come of it. Now, this boy isn't Samuel, per se.”

Again, when Dean tried to speak, Joanna cut him off. “He looks exactly like Samuel, so that has to mean something, Dean! It's worth a shot. It's better than just sitting around like a lump desiccating! At least with my plan you have a chance at being happy again. And if it doesn't pan out, then you can go back to being the mopey, desiccating vampire that you were before I fed you.” Sighing, she ran her fingers through her long, blonde hair, silently begging to anyone who would listen for just a shot at having Dean back in her life. “Please?” she whispered, her pale brown eyes locking with Dean's vibrant greens. “Just go see him if nothing else.”

It was clear in Joanna's eyes that she was at the end of her rope. Apparently, she hadn't taken the news that he'd desiccated very well and now she was doing everything in her power to make sure he didn't let it happen again. He knew her – she wasn't going to come right out and say it, but she was scared of losing him. And he couldn't blame her. They had been friends for many years. Hell, they'd been more than friends for a while there, and he knew if their positions had been switched, he would have done whatever it took to make sure she was safe too. So, he would meet this boy. But if he wasn't Samuel, then he wasn't going to stick around.

“Fine,” he grunted, rolling his eyes a bit. “I'll meet this boy. But if he isn't my Samuel, then don't expect me to stay.” He nearly fell over again when Joanna flung herself into his arms, giving him the biggest, strongest hug he'd received in quite some time. It actually felt good to have some human contact again after so long. Sighing, he closed his eyes and wrapped his arm around Joanna as well. “But before we do anything, I need to get some food into me.”

~~**~~

A lot had changed since Dean had last been part of the world. Apparently, now there were bags of blood accessible to vampires as long as they were sneaky enough to steal it from the hospital without getting caught. Joanna was a pro at that part. Dean hadn't exactly gotten the hang of it, but he was working on it. And Joanna was a great teacher. He just wasn't exactly the best student.

And then there was the clothes issue. He was used to wearing formal suits and puffy shirts – apparently that was out of style now. Now there were these tight-fitting shirts and something called jeans. Dean didn't like it. But he was pretty sure that if he walked into the world today wearing his clothing from 1842, he wouldn't get very far. 

Finally, Joanna – or Jo, as she liked to be called now – had Dean in a pair of baggy jeans, a black T-shirt, and an olive button down over shirt. Apparently, it brought out his eyes, or something. In any event, he was dressed, his hair was cut short, and he was finally ready to meet this kid. Well, he was ready to enroll in classes. _Then_ , he would meet this kid.

When the got to the college, he let Jo do all of the talking. She knew this place – this _time_ – way better than Dean did. Therefore, she knew what she was doing. He was pretty sure that she compelled the secretary to get Dean into almost all of the same classes as Sam, but he didn't care. The sooner he saw this boy, the more at ease he would feel.

Once he was enrolled in classes, Jo lead them back to the car. The classes were pretty much over for the day, so there was no use in trying to get settled in until tomorrow. “I can try to get you a room on campus, but I don't think you'd like it,” Jo explained, almost shuddering at the memory of the dorm rooms she had from her stay there. “I think you'd be better off driving the few extra minutes and staying with me.”

“I don't drive,” Dean reminded her as he pulled the door of her vehicle open. Honestly, he didn't trust these giant pieces of metal. Back in the day, a horse and carriage had done just fine. He didn't see the need to change things. There was a saying that Dean had always liked: _If it ain't broke, don't fix it._ Apparently, people in this generation didn't understand that.

Rolling her eyes, Jo climbed behind the wheel, starting the engine. “Dean, we can compel you a driver's license,” she suggested. “It wouldn't be that hard. And I can give you driving lessons. We could have you behind the wheel in less than a week.” When she saw that Dean wasn't all that enthused about the idea, Jo merely rolled her eyes again before she backed out of her parking spot.

As she was driving away, Dean's eyes were locked on something out the window. Sitting on one of the benches was the most beautiful boy he'd seen in quite some time. He was sitting with a girl who had long, curly blonde hair. And she must have been the funniest person in the world because that beautiful boy tossed his head back with laughter as she spoke. Those damn dimples denting his cheeks reminded Dean of someone he had been very close to back in the day.

This must have been him – _Sam_. Jo hadn't been kidding when she said he was the spitting image of Samuel. Right down to the tall, muscular frame Samuel had. In that moment, Dean knew that he had to have this boy. He had to make Sam his. No matter what the cost.


	3. Chapter Three

The sound of a loud, incessant buzzing dragged Dean out of his sleep. He hated it – whatever was making that noise, Dean hated it. He could see the sun shining through the curtains, all bright and hot, and he just wanted to pull the blankets over his head and just go back to sleep. But he knew that he couldn't. That sound was an alarm, which meant he needed to get up and get ready for classes.

Classes – it was all so ridiculous. He was almost 500 years old! The last thing he needed was school. But Jo was adamant about this Sam Winchester kid. And honestly, seeing the resemblance he bore with Samuel, Dean had to give her credit. He'd at least go to class today and scope the kid out. If he didn't like what he saw, then he'd just leave. It was as simple as that.

Groaning, Dean threw the blanket off of him and climbed out of bed. He was hungry. His stomach was making some awful grumbling noises, and he knew that there was no way he could go spend hours locked in a classroom full of humans without breakfast. Surely, Jo had to have something here to eat. 

“Joanna Beth!” Dean called, padding down the stairs of the lavish mansion Jo stayed in. He found her in the kitchen reading the newspaper with a large mug in front of her. “Hey,” he greeted, moving to the fridge. “Do you have any blood bags left? If I don't want to munch on my classmates, I'm going to need a pick-me-up before I head to class.”

Not even bothering to look up from her paper, Jo muttered, “There should be one in the meat drawer. Unless you ate it last night.” She usually kept a spare in case of emergency. There were times when she couldn't get to the blood bank. And usually, when that happened, she couldn't find her donor, either, which was a double whammy. 

Sure enough, there was a bag in the drawer, Dean grabbing it and plopping down on the chair across from Jo. “What're you reading?” he asked, tearing into the plastic with his teeth. It wasn't like drinking straight from the vein – it didn't taste nearly as good. But he could deal with it for now. Maybe after class, he'd take some time to establish a donor. 

Dismissively, Jo waved a hand at Dean. There had been an attack last night, apparently, and she wanted to get the whole story before she told Dean about it. After all, he had better things to worry about right now than a vampire attack that Jo could probably handle on her own. It had been a long time since they'd had another vampire trying to come into their town causing problems. Maybe it was time to call Bobby and get someone on this.

Dean rolled his eyes when Jo dismissed him, instead focusing on finishing his meal. Once the bag was finished, Dean stood and threw it in the trash. “That tastes like chilled vomit,” he complained, shuddering at the imagery. “Are you coming to class, or what?” Eyes raking over Jo, he once again let them roll. “You're not even dressed.”

Still, Jo ignored him, obviously too engrossed in her reading material to care about what he was saying. “Joanna Beth!” he snapped, effectively getting her attention. He was a little intrigued himself with what she was reading. Obviously, it was pretty juicy if she was ignoring him. But he was going to be late if he sat here and tried to pry it out of her. “Are you coming to school?” 

When Dean called for her, Jo finally tore her gaze away from the newspaper. She was finished with it, anyway. “It's _Jo_ now,” she frowned, hating that Dean insisted on using her full name. “And no, I'm not. I have something that I need to take care of.” Glancing past Dean towards the window, she asked, “Do you need a ride?”

Great. So not only did Dean had to attend classes at a college campus, but Jo was bailing on him for his first day. That was nice of her. “No,” he grumped, shaking his head. “I can get there on my own. It's not that far from here.” He could use the fresh air, anyway. “I'm gonna get dressed and head out. I'll see you when I get back.”

In about fifteen minutes, Dean was dressed in a pair of blue jeans and an olive Henley. Jo insisted that he wear his leather jacket and his boots to complete the look. She also ruffled his hair so that it was a _messy chic look_ , as she called it. Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes as he walked out of the house, grumbling to himself about how much he hated this damn decade.

It took him eleven minutes to get to the college, and another five to figure out where the hell his first class was. Jo would have been helpful for this part, but at least Dean knew how to read a map. He nearly ran into one of his fellow classmates when he walked in the door, his attention having been on his map instead of his surroundings. Apologizing, he quickly moved out of the way, his body reacting to all of the warm bodies in the room.

That breakfast he had apparently wasn't enough to hold him over. And he wasn't surprised, honestly. After years of not eating, he was bound to be a little hungry. And it wasn't like Jo had allowed him to eat what he really wanted to yesterday. She'd made him choke down those blood bags. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the help – he really did. But he wanted something else.

Laughter from the front of room drew Dean's attention to the young man sitting in the first row with a stack of books on his desk. _Sam_. His scent washed over Dean from across the room, causing Dean to growl under his breath. He wanted that boy. When he saw the blonde girl from yesterday sitting beside him, so close she could touch him, Dean's mood immediately darkened. He wanted to eat her. 

The professor walked into the room and had everyone take their seats, briefly introducing Dean to the rest of the class. He mentioned that if someone would be so kind to share the notes from earlier in the semester, it would be a nice gesture. Dean already had his eyes set on Sam for those notes – and some after school one-on-one tutoring. 

Class seemed to drag on and on for Dean. At one point, he thought he was going to fall asleep because the material was so damn dull. Who the hell studied law, anyway? There was no need for lawyers. If someone was innocent, they should have been able to defend themselves. And if they were guilty, then they deserved to be hanged. 

Finally, after what seemed like the hour that would not end, the class was over. Dean watched as Sam packed up his books and notebooks, stuffing them all into his bag. As soon as Sam stood, Dean jogged down the few stairs to meet him just outside the doorway. He barely contained his rage when he saw that blonde woman kissing Sam before she headed towards what he could only imagine was her next class. She was going to have to go.

Before Sam could walk off too far, Dean called after him, stopping the younger man in his tracks. “Hey, I'm Dean,” he greeted, extending his hand for Sam to take, which he did. Damn, that was grip the kid had. Dean could imagine that big hand of his gripping something else. Quickly, Dean shoved those thoughts out of his head, clearing his throat. “I, um...I was wondering if you'd let me borrow your notes for that class. I can give them back to you tomorrow.”

A wide smile broke out on Sam's face when he took Dean's hand. “Yeah, Dean, hi,” he greeted. “Uh, yeah, you can have them.” Digging around in his bag, Sam pulled his notebook out, handing it to Dean. “I mean, there's a lot of stuff there. You can keep it for a few days. We don't have class again until next week, so I don't need it.”

Dean felt awkward trying to talk to Sam about school. This wasn't his area of expertise. Give him some history topics, and he could crush it. But law school? He was at a loss. “Oh, yeah, thanks,” he muttered, taking the notebook from Sam and tucking it under his arm with his text book. “So...are you heading to room 105, by chance? First day. I have no idea where I'm going.”

Again, Sam smiled at Dean. He wanted to lick those damn dimples. “Uh, yeah, actually, I am,” Sam answered. “Come on, I'll take you there.” As they walked, Sam reached out his hand. “Here, let me see your schedule. Maybe I can help you find some other classes, too.”

Handing over the crumpled piece of paper, Dean watched as Sam studied his schedule. He could see that the younger man was a bit puzzled that they shared all of the classes, but Sam tried to hide it as best as he could. “Wow,” he muttered. “You and I have the _exact_ same schedule,” Sam mused. “How crazy is that?”

At Sam's words, Dean forced a chuckle past his lips, trying to act casual. They had the same classes because he'd made sure of it. Not that the secretary remembered changing his schedule around to match Sam's. Compulsion was a neat trick. Not all vampires possessed the trait, but Dean was glad he'd learned it. “Yeah, pretty crazy. But hey, at least I'll have a friend in all of my classes.” He bumped shoulders with Sam at his own joke, smiling widely when Sam laughed with him.

The rest of the day went by in a blur of classes and notes. Dean didn't bother taking anything down because Sam was diligently writing practically every word the professor said, so he was good. After all, Sam had already offered to let Dean copy his notes for all of their other classes. And if he didn't have to take notes, that left him open to study Sam.

He was beautiful – those soulful hazel eyes, and that shaggy brown hair. He was the spitting image of Samuel. Right down to that beautiful little mole just beside his nose. Sam even acted like Dean's dead lover. The kid was kind, and he cared about people. Dean didn't need to know him for more than four hours to see that he wore his heart on his sleeve. 

There was just one problem. That girl he seemed to be dating. She was going to be a pain in Dean's ass, he was sure. Already, she was getting in the way, and it hadn't even been twenty four hours since he and Sam had met. “So, do you think that maybe we could meet up later, and you can help me catch up?” Dean suggested, moss green eyes locked on champagne hazel.

“Um...I wish I could, Dean,” Sam answered, obviously upset that he couldn't help. “Jess and I have a party that we said we'd go to. It's her niece's third birthday. Her parents put her in charge of the fruit snacks.” Biting into his bottom lip, Sam suggested, “Maybe tomorrow. I mean, I know it's Saturday, but the library is open. We could meet there.”

A birthday party? For a three year old? Dean didn't understand. Why did people celebrate one year closer to death? That made absolutely no sense to him. “Oh, yeah, that's cool,” he assured the younger man. “I don't have anything going on tomorrow. I can meet you there whenever.”

Again, that smile came to Sam's lips. “Okay,” he grinned. “Um...what about...twelve o'clock? I'll meet you at the main entrance and we can find a table from there?” When Dean nodded, agreeing that would work, Sam's smile widened, dimples flashing. “Great. Well, I should get home. I still have to wrap a present. I'll see you tomorrow, though.”

Dean waved as Sam walked past him, disappearing out the front doors of the school. _Jess_ – Dean was going to have to do a little research on her. And he was going to have to figure out a way to get her the hell out of the picture. With her wedging herself between them, Dean wasn't going to make much headway with Sam. And he couldn't have that.

Sure, it was still early, but Dean could feel the connection between himself and Sam. The way the younger man's scent washed over him was like a drug. Dean's body was already calling out to Sam. And he knew the younger man would respond if the blonde was no longer in the picture. But he knew that he couldn't kill her. As much as he wanted to.

After all, Dean wasn't a killer anymore. Though he honestly didn't know why. What was the point of not hurting these happy meals on legs now? They'd hurt him. They'd taken his life from him. And he was just supposed to forgive and forget? When they'd ripped the spark out of him? Taken the one thing in this world that meant the most to him?

Of course, Jo wouldn't like it. And he knew that she would try to talk him out of it, but he wasn't sure that he cared. He knew she couldn't do anything about it if he wanted to start killing again. Dean had about three hundred years on her. And sure, he'd been sleeping for two hundred of them, but that didn't mean anything. As soon as he was back at full strength, it would be easy to take her down.

But that was a conversation for another day. Right now, Dean had other things to focus on. Like he needed to go copy these stupid notes so Sam could have his notebook back. He honestly thought about not even worrying about it. After all, it wasn't like he couldn't compel himself good grades. It just depended on how bored he was when he got back to the house, he supposed.

Right now, Dean needed to focus on finding a donor. That bagged blood wasn't going to cut it. With a solid plan in mind for the rest of the evening, Dean headed back to Jo's house. “Hey, I'm back!” he called out as he walked through the door, dropping his books off at the table. “How was your day, sweetie?”

Jo rolled her eyes when Dean called her sweetie. He knew that she hated pet names. “It was fine,” she assured him. “And yours? Did you actually talk to Sam?” She hoped that Dean wasn't stupid enough to just watch him from afar. That wasn't the point of bringing him back.

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Dean grinned. “He and I are having a little studying session tomorrow at the library.” Lifting the notebook Sam had let him borrow, Dean smiled wider. “And he gave me his notebook so I could copy the notes from our first class together.” Damn, it had Sam's scent all over it. Maybe he'd take this upstairs with him later.

Impressed by Dean's hard work, Jo nodded. “Wow, nice job,” she complimented. “So, what do you think? Was I right?” There were a lot of things about Sam that she didn't know, but from what she'd learned, he was a lot like Samuel. That had to mean something, didn't it?”

Shrugging, Dean answered, “Maybe. It's only been a day. I mean, he has a lot of the same qualities. And he looks _just_ like him.” Staring off at a spot on the table, Dean mused, “He laughs like him. And he smells like him.” Dean bit into his lip as he thought about the young man he'd spent over half of his day with. “When he smiles, he has these...adorable dimples. Just like Samuel.”

A small, sympathetic smile came to Jo's lips when Dean started talking about Sam. “Well, I guess it's a good thing you guys have plans to meet tomorrow,” she mused. “Without having to worry about being at class, you and Sam can really get to know one another.”

Yeah, that was the plan. “I hope so,” Dean smiled, shaking his head slightly to get himself back into the present. He hated how his mind would drift away on him sometimes. It never used to. But a lot had changed since he'd come back. He felt so out of place here. And he'd only been back for a little over two days. It seemed like each day the hole in his chest got bigger – the ache of what he'd lost. 

Today it hadn't been too bad though. Not until about thirty minutes ago. Being around Sam made it better. But he wasn't going to see him again for another twenty hours almost. “Uh, I'm gonna go out tonight,” Dean explained to Jo. “I need to find a donor. No offense, but your blood bags taste horrible. I can't live off that. You wanna come with?”

Although Jo had a lot to take care, she didn't want to leave Dean hanging on his own. He wasn't in tune with this decade, and the last thing she wanted was to let him run off on his own and grab some drugged up junkie. She could only imagine what would happen if Dean found a donor hopped up on meth, or heroine. That was a disaster no one needed. “Uh, yeah, I can come,” she answered, smiling at the older man. “Just give me about an hour to get a shower and change.” 

While Jo showered, Dean kept himself busy watching television. He didn't quite understand it, but he liked it. There was this show on that caught his attention – _Dr. Sexy, MD_. It was quite interesting. And Jo had taught him how to use _On Demand_ , so he could watch as many episodes he wanted without having to wait for the new ones. Well, until he got caught up on the series, anyway.

After about an hour and twenty minutes, Jo emerged from her bedroom. She looked good in a tight fitting black dress and a pair of simple black heels. Her hair was curled loosely, hanging around her oval face. She chose to wear bright red lipstick to offset her color. It was a nice look. “Wow,” Dean smiled, eying her appreciatively. “Whatever happened between us, anyway?”

“You were an ass who only cared about the hunt,” Jo answered bluntly, though her smile let Dean know it was all in good fun. “Until you met your mate, anyway.” Grabbing her jacket, Jo pulled it over her bare arms, fastening her left ear ring into place. “Are you coming, or what?”

Shutting off the television, Dean grabbed his jacket, pulling it on before he opened the door for Jo. “Lead the way,” he smiled, taking a minute to admire her from behind before he followed after her. If he wasn't trying to get into Sam's pants right now, he might have taken a crack at Jo. They'd been good together there for a while. But now, Dean only had eyes for his mate. Sure, he could check other people out, but that's as far as it went. Maybe a little flirting, but he'd never cross a line.

Once he was in the car, he slammed the door shut behind him. A small grimace came to his lips when the engine roared to life. “I fucking hate these things,” he grumped, rolling his eyes when J laughed at him before speeding off the her favorite club.


	4. Chapter Four

Jo spun into her usual parking space, a wide grin on her lips as she stared at Dean in the passenger seat. If possible, he was even more pale than usual. “What's the matter?” she asked, slapping Dean's thigh. “You're not scared of cars, are you?”

Angrily, Dean turned his attention to Jo. “Of course not,” he assured his friend. “Only when you're behind the wheel driving like a maniac.” Quickly, he shouldered open the door, climbing out of the car before Jo decided to take them somewhere else. He was going to be walking home if that's how she drove. Not that getting into a car accident would hurt him, but he didn't want to deal with that.

Rolling her eyes, Jo slid from behind the wheel, quickly catching up to Dean. “Come on, old man,” she teased. “Don't act like that. I know what I'm doing behind the wheel. I've been driving since the car was invented. And I haven't wrecked a single one.” She was very proud of her record, actually.

A deep frown came to Jensen's lips when Jo called him old. “You're not that much younger than me, you know?” he reminded, shaking his head. He followed her into the club, frowning when the bright, flashing lights and loud music hit him. Damn, he _really_ hated this decade. He honestly, couldn't believe that people listened to this shit. And those fucking lights were enough to give people seizures. 

There were bodies everywhere. Everyone was pressing against each other, and the smell of sweat and sex was thick in the air. It was enough to have Dean's blood lust kicking up a notch. This place reminded him of the brothels he and Samuel would go to when they needed to feed. Underground places that most people didn't know about. Of course, this was a public place, but the idea was the same.

Before he knew what was happening, Jo pressed herself against him, her hips rolling as she danced like the other patrons in the club. Dean didn't understand how this was considered dancing – it was basically dry humping your dance partner. It was more like having sex with your clothes on than dancing. Just another thing Dean didn't understand about this generation. But he went along with it. After all, Jo knew what she was doing. 

His hands slid down her body, gripping her hips and pulling her tightly against him. When Jo rolled her hips against him once more, Dean let out a slow breath, eyes slipping closed as his body responded to her actions. He knew she was doing it on purpose, and he'd get her back for it later. “I hate this place,” he griped, speaking regularly in her ear, knowing that Jo could hear him over the music.

Unable to keep herself from rolling her eyes, Jo leaned her head against Dean's shoulder. “You hate every place,” she griped. “You're very picky. Just give it a chance.” Her eyes darted around the dance floor, seeking out potential blood donors. 

She'd decided to come here for a reason. The patrons here were aware that there were supernatural beings walking among them, and most of them would have sold their soul to have a vampire recognize them. It just made everything easier when the donor practically threw themselves at you rather than having to go seek one out. 

It didn't take long for Jo to spot a potential dinner date for Dean. Just across the room, there was a spunky girl dancing with a group of her friends. She had long, dark brown hair and pale skin dotted with freckles. Her brown eyes held just the right amount of fire behind them – she was perfect. “Dean, over there,” she explained, jutting her chin toward the girl. “The brunette with the freckles. She looks like she'd be perfect.” And the lone male in her little group looked like a tasty treat for Jo to enjoy.

Dean's eyes ticked to the brunette Jo was telling him about. She was cute – he'd give her that. Blood was blood, so he wasn't particularly picky. All he cared about was that his donor wasn't on drugs. He didn't mess around with that shit. He could only imagine the hardcore things people could get into these days seeing as how back in his time, it was bad as it was.

Slowly, Jo led them across the dance floor. When they reached the group of people they were headed for, Jo quickly compelled the three women they weren't interested in before turning her attention to the man she had her sights on. With a smile shot in Dean's direction, Jo led her dinner away from them, leaving Dean and his new donor alone. “Hey,” she greeted, chocolate eyes locked on Dean's. “I haven't seen you around here before. What's your name?”

“I'm Dean,” he introduced himself, shooting the girl a smile. “What should I call you?” He hated small talk. He'd rather just grab someone, take what he wanted, and then leave. But he knew better than anyone that donors were an asset to a vampire. Still, that didn't mean he enjoyed the _getting to know you_ stage. 

A wide smile came to woman's lips when Dean asked for her name. “Lisa,” she answered, her hips swaying with the music. As she danced, she tossed her hair back, revealing her neck and shoulders. “So, Dean, what brings you out here tonight?”

His eyes were locked on her throat. Dean could hear her blood rushing through her veins just under her skin, and he wanted to tear into her flesh and drink deep. “I came out for dinner,” he answered honestly, eyes dancing with mischief. He reached for Lisa's hand, smiling again when she took it. “Let's go somewhere quieter.”

Leading his new donor towards the back of the club, Dean quickly pushed through the back exit. Now that he was out of that damn place, he could think again. Without saying anything, Dean led Lisa toward an alley a couple blocks over, not even registering that she was practically on top of him as he walked. 

Once they made it to the alley, Dean shoved Lisa against the wall, dipping his head to suck at her throat. Her pulse was strong as Dean lapped over it, barely holding back from sinking his fangs into her skin. Slowly, he pulled back, eyes locked on Lisa's as his fangs elongated. This was where it got tricky. Either the donor would accept their fate and realize that there were supernatural things in this world, or they would freak out and have to be taken care of. Dean honestly didn't care which way this went. Either way, he was going to get a meal.

And it wasn't like Jo was here to chastise him for killing humans. He hadn't done it in a very long time, but that didn't mean he didn't want to. After all, what had humans ever done for him? Nothing good. Humans had taken away his true love. Humans had made him a widow. He _hated_ most humans now. And he wasn't afraid to admit it. 

When Lisa saw Dean's fangs, her eyes danced with wander. She wasn't scared – she was intrigued. Lisa had heard rumors about there being things out there that only existed in horror movies, and while her friends had all brushed it off like it was nothing, Lisa had wanted to know more. So she'd done a little digging, and she learned that vampires were in fact real. “You're a vampire,” she breathed, her chest rising and falling with each breath.

“Does that bother you?” Dean asked, eyes sliding from Lisa's eyes to her neck, then back. Quickly, she shook her head. “Are you clean?” he asked. She gave him a look of confusion. “You're not on drugs? Haven't taken anything in the last forty eight hours?” Again, Lisa shoo her head. “Good. I'm gonna drink from you.”

That was the only warning Lisa got before Dean dipped his head once more, burying his face in the crook of Lisa's neck. He growled softly as he allowed his fangs to tear through her flesh, sucking her sweet life force between his lips. His fingers dug into the wall behind her, Dean trying to stay focused so he didn't take too much. 

As Dean drank from her, Lisa's hands came up to grip his biceps. Her fingers dug into his leather jacket, pulling him impossibly closer. She didn't think she'd like the feeling of being fed off this much. But it was like nothing she'd ever experienced before. There was an immortal creature feeding from her – something strong, and almost indestructible, and it needed her to stay alive. Something about that knowledge made her feel powerful.

Dean wasn't sure how long he drank from Lisa. He just knew that she could stand to have more taken without passing out, so he took more. He drank until he felt at least a little bit full. Finally, he pulled back, tongue darting out to run across his bloody lips. He then pressed Lisa's hand to her neck, forcing her palm against the wound. “Keep pressure on that,” he instructed.

When Dean turned to leave, Lisa grabbed his elbow, stopping him in his tracks. “That's it?” she asked, biting into her bottom lip. “I-I mean, don't you at least want my number?” She'd read that vampires were known to go back to the same person for food on occasion, and she was fine if Dean wanted to use her again. Pulling a pen from her pocket, Lisa wrote her number on Dean's palm. “In case you ever need a snack again.”

After making sure that Lisa got back into the club without incident, Dean searched for Jo. He found her grinding against her dinner in time with the music. “Jo,” he greeted when he got close enough. “I'm going to head out. You can stay – I can get myself home.”

“Are you sure?” Jo asked, a deep frown on her lips. “I can come with you? Brady and I can finish this up later.” She'd already fed, so now she was just having a little fun. There were things other than blood that vampires needed that they could get from humans. And Jo wasn't above taking her late night snack for a roll around in the sack. 

Smiling, Dean shook his head. “Really, it's okay,” he assured his friend. Her lust was hitting him in waves, and the last thing he wanted was to cock block his best friend. He knew that if their roles had been reversed, he would have been pissed at her if she'd done it to him. “I'll see you later, okay?” With that, Dean headed towards the exit.

He was actually relieved when he got outside of the club. That place had made his head pound and his skin crawl. As he walked towards Jo's house, Dean caught a familiar scent, stopping him in his tracks. His eyes searched the area, looking for the source of the smell that was invading his nostrils. “Sam?” he breathed, eyes narrowed in confusion when he didn't see the younger man. 

**~~**

Fear hit Sam in the gut like a punch when he saw the caller ID on his phone lighting up. Politely, he excused himself from the party, heading out the door so he could speak in privacy. “Dad?” he answered, brows knit in confusion. “What is it? Did something happen?”

“Sam, listen to me,” John answered. “I don't have very good reception here, and this is important.” The phone line was cutting in and out, and John just hoped that his son could get the message before he dropped the call. Currently, John was in the middle of nowhere hunting a ghost with his wife. They thought that it was just going to be a simple salt and burn, but it quickly turned sideways when they realized the ghost was being protected by it's ex-lover who just happened to be a witch. “I got a call from another hunter just now. There's something in Palo Alto killing people. He thinks it's vampires.”

Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes when his father told him that he'd gotten a call from a hunter. Of course this was about hunting. It didn't matter than Sam had said he was done when he went to college. Still, his father called him and tried to get him to work cases. “And you want me to take care of it?” Sam asked, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into his voice.

Pretending that he hadn't gotten attitude from his son, John answered, “Yes, Sam, I do. You're the closest hunter in the area. And there has already been a body count. There's no time to wait for someone else to get there. This thing is moving fast, and it's not trying to cover it's tracks.” Sighing, John pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can text you the details. You can start tonight. The sooner this thing is caught the better.”

Although Sam wanted to tell his dad _again_ that he was out of the family business, he didn't. People were dying, and that was something that he wasn't okay with. “Alright,” Sam mumbled, rolling his eyes at himself. “Just text me what you have, and I'll get on it.” He highly doubted that he'd be able to produce results tonight, but he'd try. Jessica was going to be so pissed off at him.

As soon as he hung up the phone, he tucked it back into his pocket, groaning in frustration. Sometimes, he really hated his life. Sighing, he pushed the door open and headed into the house once more. It was apparently written all over his face that something had come up because Jessica came to greet him before he could even make it to the main entrance. “What's wrong?” she asked, worry clear in her voice. 

A small, sad smile came to Sam's lips when Jessica asked what was wrong. “It's nothing,” he assured her, hands coming up to massage her upper arms. “That was just my dad. He needs me to take care of something for him tonight.” He hated himself as he watched his girlfriend's face fall. “I'm so sorry, Jess,” he apologized, catching her gaze once more. “I'll make this up to you. I promise.”

She wanted to be mad, but she just couldn't. She knew that Sam was pretty close with his family, and they had a strange situation that he didn't like to talk about. So when his father called, Sam usually did as he was told. Jessica couldn't be mad at him for being family oriented. “It's okay, Sam,” she assured him, forcing herself to smile. “You go ahead. I understand. I'll just crash here tonight, and you can come pick me up tomorrow, okay?”

There was never a time that Jessica ceased to amaze Sam. “Yeah, okay,” he smiled. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to his girlfriend's, a wide smile on his lips. “I promise I'm going to make this up to you. You're the absolute best. I love you.”

As Sam left the house, Jessica called after him that she loved him, too. Yep, he was going to marry that girl. He'd been shopping for rings for months now. He just hadn't found the right one. But when he did, he wasn't going to waste anymore time waiting to pop the question. Jessica was the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with – he had no doubt about that.

Once he was back at the apartment, he gathered a few supplies – a machete, some dead man's blood, and a couple wooden stakes to slow anything down if he needed to. He then headed towards one of the more gothic bars that he knew of in this town. If there were vampires hiding out here, he had a feeling that either they'd stay there to feed, or someone who frequented the place wasn't a complete quack and they might have some information for him.

Not five minutes after reaching his destination, Sam heard his name being called. His face paled when he saw that Dean was standing there ten feet away from him. He had no idea how he was going to explain this one away. “Dean?” he greeted, a wide smile coming to his lips. “What-What are you doing here?”

Jealousy raged through Dean at the idea that Sam was coming here to spend time with someone else. “I could ask you the same question,” Dean all but growled, eyes staying locked on Sam's own. He could hear the younger man's heart beating in his chest – fast and erratic. He was nervous about something. “I thought you were at a birthday party tonight.”

Sam got the feeling that Dean was accusing him of being a liar when he mentioned the birthday party. “Yeah, I was,” he assured the other man. “But I got a call from my friend. He got a little took drunk to drive, and he didn't know who else to call. So, I left early and decided to come get him.” The lie rolled easily enough off Sam's tongue. His father had taught him well.

If Dean hadn't been able to hear Sam's heart beating, he probably wouldn't have known that Sam was lying. But being a vampire was kind of like being a lie detector test. And with the way Sam's heart was beating, and his chest was rising and falling with each breath, Dean knew he wasn't here to pick up his friend. “Oh yeah?” Dean asked, eyes raking over Sam's body. “Well, why don't I come with you? Depending on how drunk your friend is, you might need some help carrying him out to your car.”

Before Sam had a chance to answer, they were attacked. The sound of a growl ripped through the air moments before Sam was knocked forward, Dean quickly catching the younger man before he hit the ground. Once Sam was safe from falling, Dean turned his attention on the new arrival. It was a woman, her brown hair falling just below her shoulders to the tops of her breasts in loose waves. Her chocolate eyes held murder as they locked on Dean's.

She lashed out again, catching Dean in the jaw with a punch that packed enough force to knock his head to the side. Vampire – she was a vampire. And judging by her scent, she was fairly new. Dean could have taken her with his eyes closed, but he had an audience. When she threw her fist again, Dean slapped her away, dodging the attack. She tried again with a quick kick, her booted foot solidly connecting with Dean's abdomen. He fell to the ground with an _umph_. Damn, she was fast.

When Sam tried to hit her, she grabbed his wrist, cranking it backward with so much force Dean was surprised it didn't snap. Sam cried out in pain before the vampire tossed him aside. The younger man rolled a few feet on the side walk with a grunt. The vampire then turned her attention to Dean again, a wide grin on her wide lips. “I see you got over Samuel finally, Dean,” she shot out, chuckling at the look of pure shock on Dean's face.

Angrily, Dean pushed himself off the ground. He threw two punches, but she managed to dodge them both. The third punch connected with her gut, but she barely registered that she'd been hit. Her small fingers wrapped around Dean's wrist, yanking him forward as her knee came up, connecting with Dean's face with a _crack_. When she released him, Dean stumbled back.

The vampire chuckled as she circled Dean. “I think I may have gotten false information,” she complained. “I was told that I would be fighting one of the greatest, meanest, baddest vampires to ever live.” Kicking out once more, she caught Dean in the chin, sending him somersaulting backward. He hit the ground hard. “I have to say, this is a little disappointing, Dean.”

Just as she was about to go after Dean again, she gasped in pain, her back arching. Slowly, she turned her body, her attention on Sam. Her arm reached back, fingers closing around the stake in her lower back. Angrily, she yanked it out of her body. “You little shit,” she growled, tossing the stake to the ground as she began to advance on Sam.

As he watched the vampire stride closer to him, Sam couldn't get his footing. His wrist hurt like a sonuvabitch, and his sneakers wouldn't gain any traction on the slippery concrete. Just as he braced himself for the blow he knew was coming, blood splattered on his face and neck. Sam squeezed his eyes tightly closed, lips pressed together in a thin line to make sure none of the blood got into his mouth.

Slowly, Sam blinked his eyes open. His eyes locked on Dean, his heart kicking up in his chest. Dean's eyes were on Sam's open duffel bag, Sam's machete in his hands. The blade clanked to the ground when Dean let it drop next to Sam's feet. He extended his hand, pulling Sam to stand when the younger man took his hand. “What—” Sam started, brows knit in confusion as he shook his head. “Are you...a hunter?”

Anger warred inside Dean as he all but ripped his hand out of Sam's grasp. If this was fate's idea of a funny joke, they really had a fucked up sense of humor. Here Sam was, practically the spitting image of Dean's dead lover reincarnated, and he was a hunter. A goddamn _hunter_!

Now, Dean had a decision to make. On one hand, he could walk away right now and choose to never see Sam again. He could leave Jo a note and explain that he didn't want to be found. Or, he could lie. He could tell Sam that he was a hunter, and he could see where that took him. 

Seeing that Sam was still staring at him, waiting for an answer, Dean bit into his bottom lip. “Yeah,” he answered, feeling something deep inside of him break.


	5. Chapter Five

“Where do you keep your first aid kit?” Dean asked as he walked into Sam's apartment after him. It was clear that Sam's wrist needed to be taken care of, and he was sure the younger man couldn't handle it on his own. And Sam had made a point to tell him that Jess wasn't at their apartment tonight, so he was more than happy to help Sam.

Sam couldn't believe it. He had no idea there was another hunter here working this case. That meant that he didn't have to work this. “Um...there should be one under the sink,” Sam answered, pointing toward the bathroom. 

First aid kit in hand, Dean headed into the bedroom, leading Sam to the bed. “C'mon, sit down,” he instructed. Once Sam was seated, Dean knelt down in between his legs. “Let me see.” Taking Sam's injured wrist in his hand, Dean began to wrap it in an ACE bandage. He didn't speak as he did, just trying to focus on anything other than the way Sam smelled this close to him. 

As Dean wrapped his wrist, Sam couldn't help the smile that came to his lips. “I can't believe you're a hunter,” Sam smiled, unable to contain his excitement. “Why haven't we heard of you? I mean...not that we're all in one big group, or anything, but I thought my dad knew everyone.”

Honestly, Dean was starting to regret his decision. Maybe telling Sam that he was a vampire would have been easier. “I'm new to the business,” he lied again, checking the fastenings of the bandage around Sam's wrist. “How does that feel?” 

It occurred to Sam that Dean was probably new to the business because he'd just recently lost someone. The thought had him aching for the older man. “I'm sorry,” Sam apologized, a deep frown on his lips. “Who did you lose?”

Dean stopped dead in his tracks when Sam asked who he'd lost. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about Samuel with Sam right now. It was too soon. He hadn't even had a chance to really gauge his and Sam's relationship. And he wouldn't be able to if Jessica was still in the picture. He needed to take care of that girl sooner rather than later. “It was a while ago,” Dean answered, releasing Sam's hand finally. “I don't like to talk about it.” The whole thing was still so fresh in his mind.

Hearing the hurt in Dean's voice, Sam instantly felt like a dick. “Oh yeah,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Of course you don't. I'm sorry.” Sam didn't know why he thought Dean would want to talk about that. He knew that he hated talking about his little brother that he'd lost.

All but ignoring Sam's apology, Dean allowed his eyes to rake over the younger man. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked. He hadn't seen every interaction between Sam and the vampire chick who had attacked them, but he didn't smell any blood, so he figured Sam was alright. But he wouldn't be opposed to a strip search, that was for sure.

“No, I'm okay,” Sam assured Dean, shaking his head. “Just a few bruises, but nothing you can do for that.” Really, all Sam wanted to do was get a nice, hot shower. “Wh-What about you? Are you injured? I can patch you up if you need it.”

Quickly, Dean shook his head. “I'm fine,” he promised. “Just a few scrapes and bruises, but like you said, nothing you can do for that.” Dean's injuries had healed as soon as they'd appeared for the most part. One of the perks of being a vampire. 

Although Sam didn't want to be rude, he really wanted that shower. His muscles were achy from rolling around on concrete, and he knew that the hot water would feel really good against his skin. “Um...do you care if I take a shower?” Sam asked, figuring that as long as Dean didn't care, it wasn't being rude.

When Sam mentioned a shower, Dean felt his body instantly respond. He wanted to get into that shower with Sam. “N-No,” he stuttered, trying to brush off the fact that he was aroused. “I can just head home. It's no big deal.”

A small frown came to Sam's lips when Dean mentioned leaving. But he had so many questions for him. They needed to talk about this case. Sam wanted off of it, and if Dean was here, maybe that could happen. “Oh...um...yeah. We can just...talk tomorrow at the library, right?”

The fact that Sam still wanted to meet him at the library tomorrow was a good sign, Dean was sure. “Yeah, we can talk then,” he assured the younger man. “Just call me if you need me before then, alright? That vampire seemed like it was after me, but I wouldn't trust that she didn't have friends, and they might be looking for you now.”

Now that Dean was mentioning it, maybe it wasn't such a good idea for him to leave. “Or...maybe we should stick together,” Dean suggested. “You know, in case her friends decide to come looking for us. I'd feel bad if I left you here alone, and you got attacked.” Dean wouldn't just feel bad – he'd kill every single one of them. Slowly. And painfully. 

Sam wasn't sure if he should be thankful that Dean was looking out for him, or insulted that Dean didn't think he could handle himself. Sure, there was just one vampire that had attacked them tonight, and if there had been more, it probably wouldn't have gone so smoothly, but Sam could take care of himself. He wasn't an invalid. “Dean, you know that I can take care of myself, right?” Sam asked, a small smirk on his lips. “But...I mean, it wouldn't be a bad idea to stick together. I'll only be in the shower for a bit.”

Looking around the apartment, Sam grabbed the remote. “Here's this,” he smiled, handing the remote to Dean. “I can't promise there's anything good on TV, but you can see if you find anything interesting.” Sam had a hard time finding anything good, but that didn't mean Dean wouldn't fair better. “I'll only be in there for a little while.”

With that, Sam headed into the bathroom, peeling his clothing off his body. He was still buzzing with excitement. It wasn't often that he met a hunter that he could relate to like Dean. Usually, hunters were all about the life. It was the only thing they talked about. But with Dean – he was going to school like Sam, and they could talk about things other than hunting. Well, now maybe they should talk about hunting, but the was beside the point.

While Sam was in the shower, Dean listened. He didn't bother turning on the television, because Sam was a lot more interesting. He could hear when the younger man climbed into the shower, how he moaned when the water first hit his skin. As he listened to Sam, Dean allowed his mind to wander – he could tell that Sam's body was well-muscled under all of those clothes. 

As he thought about Sam, Dean's body started to respond. He bit into his bottom lip as his cock strained against his jeans. God, he couldn't believe that just the thought of Sam could do this to him. Everything inside him was telling him to go into that bathroom and climb into the shower with Sam. Of course, he didn't know if the younger man wanted him, but it was easy to compel humans. Their brains were so fragile. 

No – he made a promise to himself that he wasn't going to compel Sam. Other humans, yes, but not Sam – _never_ Sam. If the younger man agreed to be with him, Dean wanted it to be Sam's choice. If not, then Dean was going to have to cut his losses and be done with it.

Biting into his bottom lip harder, Dean allowed his hand to slide down the front of his jeans. He made sure to keep his ears open for any movement that might indicate that Sam was getting out of the shower as he wrapped his fingers around his member. The last thing he needed was to get caught with his hand down his pants – literally. 

Images of Sam dripping wet and soapy flashed through Dean's mind, his cock twitching in his hand. He thought that he was going to bite through his lip as he tried to hold back the desire to moan Sam's name. It had been so long since he'd been with someone else, so he knew there was no way he was going to last long. 

A few more strokes, Dean's hips bucking into his hand, and he was falling over the edge. As he was coming down from his post-orgasmic high, Dean heard the water turn off. Quickly, he pulled his hand from his pants, grabbing a few tissues from the nightstand and wiping his hand clean. By the time Sam was out of the bathroom – fully dressed, much to Dean's disappointment – there was no evidence that Dean had just cum to the thought of Sam's naked body.

“You decided not to watch television?” Sam asked, chuckling softly. “I don't blame you. There's never anything on, anyway.” Honestly, Sam wasn't sure why they even continued to pay for the service. But Jess watched the television, so Sam figured it was worth it.

For the rest of the evening, Sam asked Dean as many questions as he could think of. He didn't stop interrogating Dean until well after midnight. “Oh, I should get some sleep,” Sam groaned as he looked at the clock. “I have to go get Jess tomorrow morning before we go to the library. You're more than welcome to come with me, if you'd like.” Sam wouldn't mind the company, actually. And he wanted Dean and Jess to be friends.

The idea of being in a car with that dreadful woman made Dean want to cringe. “I should go home and get a shower,” Dean suggested. “You won't want to sit next to me if I stink. And if I don't shower, there's a chance I'll stink. But...I can shower tomorrow. I don't think you should be alone here tonight. I can stay. Vampires don't like to move around too much during the day, so I'd feel safer knowing that they didn't come for you tonight.”

Although Sam didn't think he needed a baby sitter, he was more than happy to let Dean crash here. “Well, I don't have an extra bedroom, but you're more than welcome to crash on the couch,” Sam offered. “It's probably not too comfortable, but at least it's better than the floor.”

Dean didn't really sleep all that much, so he was fine with crashing on the couch. “Yeah, that's fine with me,” he answered with a nod. Once Sam had a pillow and a blanket on the couch for him, Dean thanked him and took a seat. He watched as Sam headed into his room, closing the door behind himself.

Slowly, Dean leaned back in his seat, blocking out everything in the world other than the sound of Sam. Just because he promised himself that he wouldn't compel Sam didn't mean he couldn't plant some ideas into his head. After all, Dean was having trouble gauging how Sam felt about him – this would make it easier, he was sure.

He listened as Sam moved around in his bed, tossing and turning a few times before his breaths finally evened out. Once Sam was asleep, Dean opened his mind, trying to connect with Sam as much as he could from this far away. _Samuel_ , Dean breathed in his mind, seeing his dead lover behind his lids. _Samuel, come back to me_.

Throughout the night, he tried connecting to Sam. He wasn't sure if he actually got through to the younger man, but he had to have hope that he did. At some point, he was going to have to deal with Sam's girlfriend. And when that happened, he would be there for Sam to fall back on. He'd be the one that Sam came to for comfort. He'd make sure of that.

**~~**

Over the next few weeks, there hadn't been any more incidents with vampires. Sam was convinced that he and Dean had taken care of it when they killed that girl who attacked them outside of that night club. But Dean knew better. Vampires always traveled in packs – even if it was just two of them, they traveled in packs. There was never just one lone vampire.

This thing was waiting for them to put their guard down. That's when it was going to strike, Dean was sure. But he would be ready. He wasn't about to let his guard down. He'd done that with Samuel and the outcome had been catastrophic. Dean wasn't going to let that happen – never again.

Still, he had something a little more pressing on his mind right now. Like Jessica Moore. She was still in the picture. And Sam was even talking to him about popping the question. That could _not_ happen. And Dean had made a promise to himself that he wouldn't compel Sam, but Jessica was fair game. Which is why he was sitting outside of the school right now when he should be in class with Sam. He knew Jessica had a free period, and he was going to get this over with now.

A wide smile came to his lips when the bubbly blonde entered the courtyard. Checking to make sure no one was watching him, Dean made his way to Jessica with vampire speed. She gasped when he appeared before her, pushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “Oh, Dean...how are you?” she greeted.

She was so polite. If Dean had a conscience, he would have felt bad about what he was about to do. Clearly, Jessica and Sam had feelings for each other. But it was nothing compared to what Dean and Sam could have. Dean had been with Sam for a few weeks now, and he had no doubt that this was his lover reincarnated. All he had to do was remind Sam of who he really was. But he couldn't do that with Jessica lurking around. So this was necessary. “I'm good,” he smiled, nodding at the woman. “How have you been?”

It was a little odd that Dean was talking to her. Usually, when Jessica came into the room and Dean was there, he bolted. He'd made it very clear that he didn't particularly care for her. But, she didn't want to be rude, so she figured that she could at least be civil with him. “I've been okay. Hey, Sam and I are going to this party this weekend. Did you want to come with us?”

 _Sam and I_ – Dean hated those words coming out of her pink lips. When he was done with her, there wasn't going to be a Sam and Jessica anymore. “Yeah, about that,” Dean started, laying one hand on Jessica's shoulder. Keeping his gaze locked on Jessica's, Dean instructed, “You're going to break up with Sam. You don't love him anymore. You're afraid that you're holding him back from his full potential. Do you understand?”

Confusion was clear on Jessica's face as she listened to Dean's words. “I'm going to break up with Sam,” she repeated. “I don't love him anymore. I'm just holding him back from his full potential. It's not fair to him.”

Nodding, Dean continued, “When he comes out of his class, you're going to break the news to him. And after that, you're not going to speak to him again, okay?”

Still clearly confused, Jessica nodded. “I'm going to break up with him after this class,” she repeated once more. “And then I'm never going to speak to him again.”

It then occurred to Dean that the two of them shared an apartment building. And while he hated Jessica, it wasn't her fault that she had the short end of the stick here. “You're going to tell Sam you want to keep the apartment. You don't have anywhere else to go. When you leave here, you're going to pack up all of Sam's things, and you're going to leave them on the front door. Do you understand?”

Again, Jessica nodded. “I can't leave the apartment, so Sam has to,” Jessica repeated. “I'll pack up his things so he doesn't have to come back inside. He can pick them up sometime when I'm not there.”

A wide smile came to Dean's lips as he released Jessica's shoulder. “Good,” he congratulated. “Now, run along.” He watched as Jessica walked toward the school, confusion sill clear on her face. Dean would have to be there when the break up took place, of course. He needed to make sure that it was done right, for one. And then he would be there to console Sam after the breakup. Jo wouldn't care if Sam lived with them, he was sure. 

Once the clock started dinging loudly in the middle of the courtyard, signaling that it was 12:00, Dean headed into the school, eager to find Jessica and Sam. He stayed out of eyesight and just listened to Jessica deliver the crushing news. Sam just wouldn't accept it. Dean felt horrible. But in the end, this was for the best. Sam was better off with Dean. And he would see that when the time came.

Dean waited for Jessica to be gone before he finally rounded the corner. Plastering a shocked look on his face, Dean headed toward a clearly upset Sam. “Hey, what's the matter?” he asked, concerned moss green eyes locking on Sam's crushed champagne hazels. “What happened?”

“It's Jess,” Sam answered, barely holding back the tears that were threatening to fall. “She, uh, she just broke up with me.” Sam was in shock. He couldn't believe it. They were fine! Just this morning, they'd been laughing and joking together. They'd made plans to go to a party not five hours earlier, and now they weren't even together!

His mind was reeling. Sam didn't have anywhere to live now. Jessica had been very clear about him not returning to the apartment. She was going to pack up his things and leave them on the front door. He was trying to figure out what could have possibly happened in the last five hours that made Jessica decide that they weren't a good fit anymore.

But he had another problem to worry about. He didn't have a home. He was going to have to talk to the dean and try to get himself a dorm. And it was already so far into the semester. There was a chance there wasn't anything left in the dorms. 

When Sam started to walk away, Dean stopped him, hand gripping the younger man's elbow. “Sam, where are you going?” he asked, searching Sam's face. “I don't think you're in any condition to be off on your own right now, Sam.”

Slowly, Sam shook his head. “I have to go to the dean's office,” Sam explained, eyes not even seeing Dean. “I have to see if I can get a dorm room. J-Jess wants to keep the apartment. She said...my stuff will be on the front door when I'm done with classes.”

It hurt to see Sam like this. Dean wanted Jessica out of the picture, but he hadn't meant to hurt Sam so much. “Hey, Sammy, c'mere,” he instructed, pulling Sam away from the crowd of students trying to get to their next class. “You don't have to go to the dean and try to find a dorm room. You can stay with me. Jo won't care. And even if she does, I don't care. Okay? You're staying with me.”

A small frown came to Sam's lips when Dean offered to let him stay with him. “I can't,” he answered, shaking his head. “I don't want to impose on you and your roommate.” Sam hated it when people pushed themselves on others. He could stay in the dorms. He wasn't above it. The only reason they had the apartment was because he and Jessica had wanted to spend more time together. Apparently, that had changed drastically.

“You're not imposing,” Dean assured the younger man, rolling his eyes. “I insist that you stay with me.” After all, it was Dean's fault that Sam didn't have a place to stay now. And he was going to make it right. It wasn't like he and Jo didn't have the space. Honestly, Dean didn't understand why Jo had been living in a house with nine bedrooms. He didn't think she was an entertainer, so there was just no need for all of that space.

Again, Sam could feel the tears threatening to fall. “Are you sure?” he asked, biting into his bottom lip. He really didn't think there would be any available dorms this late into the semester. And even if there were, there was probably a reason for it. Like someone had been absolutely impossible to live with. And Sam didn't particularly want to spend the rest of this semester living at the library to escape his roomate.

Without hesitation, Dean nodded. “I'm beyond sure,” he promised. He could see that Sam was a mess right now, so he pulled him into a hug. His eyes slid closed as he pressed his body close to Sam's, the younger man relaxing against him. “It's okay, Sammy,” Dean breathed. “I'm gonna take care of you. I'm gonna make this all better.”

Sam had never been shown such affection from anyone other than his mother. Not even his father had been so loving and caring with him. He liked it. “Thank you,” he mumbled, relaxing further against Dean. For some reason, there was just something about the other man that made him feel like he was safe. Like he was loved.

After Sam's last class, Dean went with him to his apartment to retrieve his belongings. As promised, his things were in boxes on the front door step. For the third time that day, Sam had to hold back his tears as he packed his things into the trunk of the Impala. He then climbed into the driver's seat and allowed Dean to direct him toward his new home. “I promise I won't stay long,” Sam assured him. “Just until next semester when I can get a dorm room early on.”

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Dean argued, “Sam, it's not a problem. You don't have to stay in those dorm rooms. This house is big enough for you to live here with us. Trust me.” Smirking at Sam, Dean bumped his shoulder against the younger man's. “Besides, you're saving me from living with Jo all alone. She can be a bit much sometimes.”

Unable to hold back the small chuckle that escaped him, Sam just shook his head at Dean. He'd met Jo a few times, but he wouldn't say they were friends, or anything. Still, he was about to make her one of his best friends for letting him crash at her place. 

When he pulled up to the mansion, he couldn't stop his jaw from dropping open. “Wow,” he breathed, eyes locked on the massive home. “You live here? With just Jo? I mean, this place is...a mansion!” He felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment at his outburst. “I'm sorry. I just mean...it's beautiful. And _big_ for two people.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean answered, rolling his eyes. “I don't know why she insists on living here. Before I got here, she lived here all alone. She told me that she liked her space.” Realizing that Sam might take that the wrong way, Dean quickly added, “Not that she isn't going to have plenty of space still with the three of us here. It'll be fine.” Seeing the look on Sam's face, Dean smiled at the other man. “C'mon, I'll help you carry your stuff.”

As the two of them carried Sam's belongings into the house, Dean felt like he was being watched. Looking around the area, a deep frown on his lips, Dean searched for any kind of threat. He didn't see anything though. Figuring that he was just being paranoid, Dean shrugged, jogging to catch up to Sam when the younger man asked him what he was doing.


	6. Chapter Six

Sam had been living with them now for almost three weeks. Dean was surprised that he and Jo had been able to pull it off for so long. But now, Jo was getting antsy. She wanted Dean to tell Sam that they were vampires instead of hunters. Apparently, she needed to bring her dinner home with her, and she didn't want to be attacked for doing what was necessary. It wasn't like she killed people!

“Dean!” Jo argued, following him down the stairs when he tried to get away from her. “You can't run from this! Sooner or later, Sam is going to find out what we are! Did you think that him living here was going to be a good idea for your little lie?!” When Dean tried to round the corner into the living room, Jo grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “You know he's going to find out! Don't you think he would feel better about it if _you_ told him?!”

She had a point. Dean knew that. But he didn't want to break the news. Sure, Sam seemed like he was adjusting well, and he and Dean had grown exceptionally closer, but it wasn't enough. Their relationship was still too fragile. Dean hadn't even made the first move on Sam yet! “Jo, I will tell him!” Dean promised. “Just not right now! I haven't even told him how I feel about him yet, okay?! If he knows what we are before I tell him, then he might leave, and I won't have the chance!”

Rolling her eyes, Jo argued, “Well, if he doesn't like the fact that you're a vampire, you can compel him to like it!” She frowned when Dean started adamantly shaking his head. “What do you mean no?! We're _vampires_ , Dean! One of the perks of being a vampire is that we can compel humans when they don't like we have to say!”

He frowned when Jo started in on compulsion. Dean knew the perks of compulsion – it was one of his favorite things about being a vampire. “I'm not compelling Sam!” he yelled, honestly upset that Jo would even suggest such a thing. 

A deep frown came to Jo's lips when Dean got mad about the suggestion. “Why not?!” she demanded. “I know you're not above compulsion!” When she got a confused look from Dean, Jo rolled her eyes. “Don't act stupid. I _know_ you compelled Jessica Moore to break up with Sam. I saw the two of them together. I know there was no way they were going to break up. And when I asked her about it, she couldn't tell me why she broke up with Sam. Other than she was holding him back from his full potential. Funny, Dean, I remember you telling me that one night not too long ago.”

Honestly, Dean wasn't ashamed of what he'd done. If he had to go back and make the choice again, he'd do everything exactly the same. “She was holding him back from his full potential,” Dean argued. “He belongs with me. Isn't that what you told me? When you forced that blood down my throat and made me come back?”

When Dean put it that way, it always made Jo feel terrible for bringing him back. “You know what, Dean, you're a dick!” she shouted. “I brought you back because you didn't need to be desiccating on the street somewhere, alright?! And you know what else, when you saw Sam, you can't tell me that you didn't agree with me! So I'm not sorry for trying to do what's best for you! I will _never_ be sorry for trying to do what's best for you! Because you're my best friend! And I love you!”

Now, Dean did feel like a dick. “I know,” he answered, head hung in shame. “Look, I'll tell him. I will. I promise. Just...give me time, okay? I want to make sure he's not going to bolt on me.” Eyes ticking up to meet Jo's, Dean explained, “I don't think I can handle losing him again.”

All of the anger escaped Jo in rush when she saw how broken Dean seemed to be. “I know,” she assured her friend. “I guess I can just eat out tonight. But let it be known that I'm not going to fall for this all of the time. You and Sam have the night to yourselves here. Make good use of it, Dean.”

With that, Jo turned on her heels and headed out of the house, leaving Dean alone in the huge mansion. He hated it when he was alone here. He knew that he should have gone to class with Sam this morning. But he'd been missing a lot of classes lately. Now that Sam lived with him, Dean didn't really need to go to class to be around him. All he had to do now was walk down the hall.

Still, that was too far away. Dean wanted Sam in his room with him. But he didn't know how to bring it up. _Make good use of it, Dean_ – Jo's words replayed in his head. It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to tell Sam how he felt. It was more that he didn't know how. He was new to this whole thing. Back in his day, if you wanted to be with someone, you courted them until they decided if they wanted you too.

Now, it seemed like people just came out and said it. There was no courting – there was nothing. You just spit it out and hoped not to be rejected. Dean didn't trust himself to be around Sam if he was rejected. The tease of compulsion was too great. Sighing, Dean headed to the kitchen, grabbing one of the blood bags out of the freezer that Jo kept locked so Sam couldn't see what was inside. He needed a little pick me up, and he knew that Lisa couldn't be here and gone before Sam came home from school.

While he waited for Sam to come home, Dean busied himself with chores around the house. Jo had been complaining that he never did anything around the house, so he was going to change that. Honestly, he didn't know why they couldn't just compel someone to clean the house for them. It was too big to be worrying about as far as Dean was concerned. But he had a few hours, so he would make good use of them, he supposed.

After three hours, Dean was finished. He'd spent most of the time just looking at the house and bitching about how damn big it was, so he didn't get much done. But the second he heard the Impala pull into the driveway, he was done cleaning. There were more important things to be focusing on now that Sam was back. 

With vampire speed, Dean ran down the steps, greeting Sam at the door. “Hey, how was school?” Dean asked, a wide grin on his face. “Did I miss anything good?”

“As a matter of fact, you missed a quiz,” Sam answered. “I talked to the professor though and I was able to get you scheduled for a make up test on Wednesday. Since you don't have any other classes that day.” He smiled widely as he dropped his backpack onto the floor. “Oh, and you remember Luis?” When Dean nodded, Sam frowned. “He's missing. There was an announcement about it this morning.”

A deep frown came to Dean's lips when Sam told him about Luis. “Missing?” he asked. “Wow, that's a shame. I kind of liked him.” Seeing that Sam was giving him a look, Dean rolled his eyes. “Sam, just because someone is missing doesn't mean there's a case here.” He hated it when Sam got all into hunting. “And besides, I thought you hated hunting. Every time your dad calls you to go on a hunt, you get all moody.”

Moving toward the kitchen, Sam argued, “I don't _hate_ hunting, per se,” he argued. “I just hate that my dad always tries to send me out on hunts when I was trying to live my life with Jessica.” He frowned deeply at the memory of his ex-girlfriend. “And, well, Jessica and I aren't together anymore, so I might as well do something productive with my time.”

Dean hated it when Sam tried to do something productive with his time. That always meant that he tried to drag him into hunts, and Dean just wasn't interested. “Besides, Luis isn't the only one who's missing,” Sam continued as he searched through the fridge for his post class snack. “I looked into this. Turns out, there have been four other students who went missing in the last three weeks. Dean, this could be a case.”

Again, Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine, Sam,” he answered. “We can look into it, alright?” He couldn't help but smile when Sam beamed at him. His eyes darted down to Sam's lips when he bit into his apple, Dean feeling his body responding. Dammit, this was happening a lot lately. It was like he was a fucking teenager all over again – he hated not being in control of his body.

Not missing the way Dean was staring at his lips, Sam smirked. “Hey, where's Jo?” he asked, looking around the room. “I thought she said she had friends coming over tonight.” 

Unable to hold back the bark of laughter that escaped him, Dean rolled his eyes once more. “Yeah, her plans changed,” Dean explained. “She decided to go to the guy's house instead. Apparently, it's going to be an all nighter. So, that means you and I have the place to ourselves.”

Sam's cheeks burned with embarrassment when Dean mentioned Jo's plans. “Oh, okay,” he mumbled, taking another bite of his apple. He didn't know what Dean was getting at when he said they had the place to themselves – like it was something special. Maybe it was? Maybe Dean didn't want Jo to know that they were hunting together? “So, I figure since we've got time with Jo being gone, we could do some research and then maybe figure out what's going on here.”

 _Make good use of it, Dean_ – Jo's words echoed in his mind once more. But Dean still had no idea how to make good use of it. After all, it wasn't like he was a human. He couldn't cook, which meant dinner was out of the question. And he sure as hell wasn't just going to come out and tell Sam that he was his dead mate reincarnated. That seemed like a terrible plan. “Um...yeah, we can research and stuff,” Dean agreed, rolling his eyes internally at himself. 

Once Sam was finished with his apple, he and Dean headed to the main living area to get some research done. There really wasn't much to go on, honestly. The people who had gone missing didn't have anything in common other than they were college students. They didn't even go to the same school, or study the same major. It all seemed so random.

After about ten minutes, Dean was already getting a headache. “Sam,” he all but whined, “we're not getting anywhere with this.” Research was something Sam enjoyed, and Dean was fine with that, but he _hated_ it. If they were going to hunt, Dean wanted to be where the action was – he wanted to be on the streets. “I say we go kick up some leads. There has to be something somewhere, alright? We can ask around and see where it gets us. Better than sitting here getting nowhere.”

While Sam agreed that Dean had a point, he had no idea where to start looking for leads. “Okay,” he breathed, shutting down his laptop. “I mean, we know that there were vampires in this town, right? Maybe this has something to do with that? We should go back to that nightclub and check it out. Maybe we'll get lucky and the bartender might recognize our vics.”

It was as good a plan as any, Dean figured. “Yeah, that's fine,” he agreed. “Get your shit. I'll meet you in the car.” With that, Dean headed to the Impala, yanking the passenger door closed and climbing inside. Again, he felt like someone was watching him. It was an eerie feeling. And it seemed to be happening a lot more than usual lately.

When Sam climbed into the car, Dean jumped slightly before rolling his eyes at himself. Now, he was just being paranoid. They drove to the club in silence for the most part, Sam listening to some kind of music that Dean was sure wasn't actually considered music. He couldn't wait to get out of the car when they finally got to the club. Sam drove a lot more safely than Jo did.

“How about you take the bartender, and I'll ask around some of the patrons,” Dean suggested, returning Sam's nod when he got his answer. Dean slunk through the crowd, careful not to let anyone get too close to him. He was on edge being this close to Sam, and he didn't want to slip up in front of the younger man. From across the dance floor, his eyes locked with Lisa's, Dean giving his head a slight shake to let her know he wasn't here for her tonight.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw a brunette woman walking through the crowd. He knew her – she was one of their missing persons. Quickly, Dean followed after her, exiting the building through the back moments after she did. However, when he stepped into the alley, she was gone. That made no sense. Maybe his head was playing tricks on him.

Slowly, Dean turned toward the door, ready to go back into the club. However, before he could pull the heavy metal open, someone came up behind him, thrusting a sharp object into his back. Growling in pain, Dean turned without thinking, shoving his attacker away from him on instinct. Now that he was face-to-face with her, Dean could finally get a good look at who she was. And sure enough, it was one of the students who had gone missing – Ava Wilson.

She smiled as she geared up for another attack. Her arm flung out, landing a blow to Dean's cheek. He blocked the next attack. And he managed to block the one after that before Ava reached behind him and twisted the stake in his back. Pain flared through him once more, forcing him to release Ava. “What the hell do you want from me?” Dean demanded, doubled over in pain.

Shrugging, Ava took another step toward Dean. “Me? Nothing,” she answered. Her knee came up and connected with Dean's face, sending him stumbling backward. Luckily, he kept his footing. “I'm just doing what I'm told to do. By my sire. Apparently, you did something to _really_ piss him off. And he wants you to hurt for it.”

Ava got closer once more, Dean reaching out to grab her wrist and block her attack. Quickly, he yanked her arm out, twisting it behind her back and shoving her face first into the alley wall. “Who's your sire?” he demanded, applying pressure to Ava's trapped arm.

She struggled against the grip Dean had on her, gasping in pain when Dean applied just a little more pressure to her arm. “I'm not going to tell you anything, asshole!” she bit out. “He doesn't want you to know he's here yet. And I wouldn't ruin his plans.”

Honestly, Dean hated vampires. Back in the day, there was a mutual respect between vamps. Now, it seemed like it was every vampire for himself. And if that's how they wanted to play it, Dean was more than happy to play along. Roughly, he flipped Ava, pulling the stake from his back and shoving it against her jugular. “Are you sure about that?” he asked. “Because I have use for you if you want to talk. If not, then you're useless. And I _will_ kill you.”

Shrill laughter filled the air as Ava pressed herself into the stake a little harder, drawing blood. “You don't scare me, Dean Smith,” she taunted. “I'm more afraid of him than I could ever be of you. Word around the street is that you've gone soft.”

Soft? Well, Dean could show her soft. Shrugging, he slammed her back against the wall harder, not caring when he heard her skull crack against the concrete wall. “Who's your sire?” he asked, his voice holding more conviction this time. This time, Ava just spit in his face. Growling, he wiped the saliva off his cheek. Now, he was really angry. Figuring that he wasn't going to get anything from her, Dean gripped both sides of her head, twisting violently as he jerked upward. Her body fell to the ground in a heap as Dean held her head tightly between his hands.

A gasp from behind him had Dean turning his attention to the source of the sound. _Sam_. He was standing there with his hand over his mouth, looking on with horror as Dean dropped Ava's head. “Y-You—” he started, staring at Ava's body, then back at Dean. “What are you?” he demanded, pulling his gun from the waistband of his jeans. “What the hell are you? You ripped her head off! Humans can't do that!”

Slowly, Dean raised his hands in a surrendering position. “Sammy,” he started, shaking his head. “Don't do this. You need to calm down.” Dean would never hurt Sam, but he wasn't above putting the younger man to sleep. After all, Dean was hurt, and he needed to feed if he wanted to heal properly. And quickly. “She was a vampire. She attacked me. I was defending myself.”

“But you _ripped off her head_!” Sam reiterated, as if Dean hadn't been there to see it himself. Sam couldn't believe what he'd seen. Dean wasn't human, that much he was sure of. But what he was – that was the troubling part. Sam _lived_ with him – had been living with him for _weeks_ – and he never thought for one second that Dean had been lying about being a hunter.

Continuing to keep his movements slow, Dean took a step toward Sam. “I know I did,” he answered calmly. “I can tell you what I am, but you gotta put that gun away first.” The gun wasn't going to do much to him, but Dean really didn't want to deal with a gunshot wound on top of the hole he had in his back. “Come on, I'm not going to hurt you.”

With slightly shaky hands, Sam argued, “I don't know that.” Dean was something supernatural. He was something that Sam hunted. Now would be the perfect time to take Sam out – he was off his guard. This gun was the only thing that was keeping him safe. 

If Dean wasn't in such pain right now, he probably would have made a joke. But this situation seemed a little heavy for a joke, honestly. “C'mon Sammy,” Dean argued, wincing in pain when he moved a bit too fast. He was loosing too much blood. If he didn't feed soon, he was going to lose what little shred of control he had. “If I wanted to hurt you, don't you think I would have done it already? You've been sleeping under the same roof as me for the last month almost! I could have easily attacked you in your sleep!”

A deep frown came to Sam's lips at the realization that Dean was right. It would have been easy to just attack him while he was vulnerable. But Jo was usually home. So, maybe that's why he didn't. Letting the gun waiver a bit, Sam shot back, “Jo is in the house with us. If you attacked me, you'd have exposed yourself to her, too!”

Now, Dean did roll his eyes. “Jo is a vampire, too!” Dean explained. “She's the one who brought me back into this God forsaken world!” Anger was starting to get the best of him, and he didn't like it. “Sammy, c'mon, please? You know me. You know I'd never hurt you. But _I_ am hurt. We gotta get out of here. I'll explain everything to you in the car. Let's just go home.”

Although everything inside of him was telling him not to believe Dean, Sam just couldn't help himself. Sighing, he tucked his pistol back in the waistband of his jeans, moving toward Dean. “Here, put your arm around me,” Sam suggested, wrapping his own arm around Dean's waist as he helped the older man support his own weight. “I'm going a lot on faith here, Dean,” Sam mumbled. “Don't make me regret it.”

**~~**

Dean groaned loudly as Sam helped him out of the car. He felt like he'd been stabbed with a two by four. “Shit, I think that bitch poisoned me,” Dean ground out. Every little movement hurt like a bitch. When Sam finally had him in the house, Dean was grateful to be on the couch, not moving. Slowly, he started taking his jacket off, growling in pain. 

“Here, let me help you,” Sam suggested, frowning at how pathetic Dean looked trying to get undressed himself. “What could she have poisoned you with?” Once Sam had Dean's jacket off, he started helping Dean with his over shirt, tossing that into the growing pile of clothes. “Can your kind even be poisoned?”

Growling out a chuckle, Dean squeezed his eyes closed at the pain. “I'm a vampire,” he explained as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Of course I can be poisoned. We're not indestructible like everyone thinks.” Eyes ticking up to Sam who was standing _way_ too close right now, Dean muttered, “You of all people should know that.”

A small frown came to Sam's lips when he saw that Dean was still bleeding. “You're a lousy vampire,” he teased. “You're not even healing.” Reaching for the hem of Dean's T-shirt, Sam started tugging at it. “C'mon, lift your arms. I know it hurts, but I gotta get this off.”

The last thing Dean wanted was for Sam to take off his shirt right now. He was already standing too close, and he smelled so fucking good. “I told you she poisoned me,” Dean muttered. “Probably dead man's blood. It doesn't paralyze me like it does the vampires you deal with. Instead it's like poison – it stays in my system until I feed and flush it out.” Finally, after Sam wouldn't stop tugging on his brand new shirt, Dean lifted his arms. “This is a bad idea,” he mumbled, mainly to himself.

Of course, because Sam was so close to him, the younger man heard what he'd said. “Why?” Sam asked, licking his lips as he pulled back, tossing Dean's shirt into the discard pile with his jacket and over shirt. “Just because you're a vampire doesn't mean you can't ask for help sometimes. And why doesn't dead man's blood affect you like it does other vampires?”

Really, Dean didn't want to get into this right now. But he knew that he owed Sam an explanation. “I'm not like them,” he answered. “I'm older. From a different bloodline. Vampires over the years have evolved. They've _changed_. Things that hurt me won't hurt them, and vice versa. And they can't do a lot of things that I can do.”

Now, Sam was intrigued. “Like what?” he asked, biting into his bottom lip as he studied Dean. The vampire was hot, if Sam was being honest with himself. Over the last few weeks, he'd been taking an interest in Dean – one that wasn't all that friendly. He didn't understand it. And he surely didn't act on it. But he could acknowledge that it was there.

Again, Dean let out a pained chuckle. “You want me to give away all of my secrets while I'm sitting here on a couch poisoned, defenseless to protect myself, with a hunter?” he asked, rolling his eyes once more. “Damn Sammy, you must think I trust you, or something.” Seeing that his joke fell on deaf ears, Dean reached out and cupped Sam's cheek. “I do. Trust you, I mean.” Licking his lips, Dean explained, “Silver – it can kill me. Doesn't matter how small an amount. And I can compel humans to do what I want them to. Those are really the only differences.”

When Dean explained that he could compel humans, Sam felt slightly violated all of a sudden. “Have you ever...compelled me?” Sam asked, a small frown coming to his lips. 

“No,” Dean answered honestly. “I'd never do that to you. I want your decisions with me to be your own, Sammy.” Dean could feel the poison setting in further. He was starting to feel tired. He never slept, so when he felt tired, he knew there was a problem. 

Hearing Dean explain that he would never compel him had something inside Sam singing. At least he knew he could trust Dean. “Hey, you don't look too good,” he stated the obvious, frowning deeply as Dean's eyes slowly blinked closed, then opened once more. “Are you alright?”

Dean tried to laugh when Sam asked if he was alright, but all that came out was a garbled wheeze. “No,” he croaked. “M'dying.” He wasn't really dying, but his body was shutting down. So it kind of felt like the same thing. He'd done this before – Jo was going to be so pissed off when she came home.

Another deep frown came to Sam's lips when Dean mentioned he was dying. “What do you mean?” he asked, suddenly feeling the dire air of this situation. “I-I thought you said that dead man's blood can't kill you.”

Suddenly, Sam realized that Dean had mentioned the need to feed. Well, Sam was a human – Dean could feed from him. Surely, the amount of blood he needed to flush the dead man's blood out of his system wasn't enough to kill Sam. “Here, Dean, listen,” Sam started, his voice panicky. Quickly, he slid between Dean's knees, holding Dean's head in his hands. “Hey, you need to drink, right?” Dean only managed a weak nod. “Then do it.” Without thinking, Sam started undressing himself. When he finally reached for the hem of his T-shirt, Sam pulled it off his body and tossed it on the pile with Dean's clothes, aware of the vampire's onyx eyes watching his every move. “Drink me.”


	7. Chapter Seven

_Drink me_. Dean wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into Sam's neck and drink deep. But he knew that it was dangerous. He was afraid that he wouldn't be able to stop. And he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he hurt Sam. “Sammy, don't,” Dean argued, shaking Sam's hands off his face. “M'not gonna hurt you.”

“You're right, you're not going to,” Sam assured Dean. “But you are going to drink from me. I”m the only option you've got right now. Unless you have a stash of humans in the basement that I'm not aware of.” Sam's face paled at the thought. “You...don't have a stash of humans in the basement that I'm not aware of, do you?”

A weak smile broke over Dean's lips at Sam's question. “No, I don't,” he promised. “Jo and I have blood bags in the locked freezer. But they won't work. It needs to be straight from the vein.” Dean hated it, but Sam was right – he was his only option.

Licking his lips, Sam nodded. “Well, I have a vein,” he stated the obvious. “You can drink from me. I won't let you go too far.” Of course, Sam knew that Dean was stronger than him. Dean was faster than him. If he wanted to hurt Sam, there really wasn't anything the younger man could do about it. Still, he would rather risk Dean hurting him than sitting here watching Dean die. Not when he could do something about it.

When Dean shook his head again, Sam scrambled into the older man's lap. “Don't,” Sam snapped, gripping Dean's chin in one hand and using his free hand to bat Dean's hand away from him. “Don't tell me no. Not when you're sitting here like this in front of me. You can't ask me to watch you die. Not when I can do something about it.”

Roughly, Sam gripped Dean's hair, forcing his head into the crook of his neck. “Now...drink,” he ordered, bracing himself for the pain he knew was coming. He hissed in his breath when Dean's fangs tore into his flesh. It hurt a lot more than he thought it would. When Dean jerked him closer, Sam's hands shot out to Dean's shoulders, bracing himself against the vampire's solid body.

 _Take. Drink. Mine._ It was a mantra playing in Dean's head as he lapped at Sam's wound. His body was responding to the closeness of the younger man, Dean not even caring that his cock was becoming full and heavy in his jeans. He was sure that Sam could feel the hard length of his shaft pressing against his belly, but Dean couldn't bring himself to care about that either. All he could care about right now was the blood.

After just a few seconds, he could feel the poison draining from his body, Sam's blood pumping new life into his veins. He wanted more. Dean wanted to throw Sam onto this couch and fuck him silly. He wanted Sam to scream his name – to beg for him. 

Without thinking, Dean tightened his grip on Sam's body, holding the younger man close as he flipped them. Once Sam was on his back on the couch, Dean blanketed the younger man's body with his own, not breaking the contact his mouth had on Sam's neck. He knew that he was going to have to stop soon, but he wasn't worried about that right now. Instead, he started jerking his hips, rutting against Sam like a damn cat in heat.

Another gasp escaped Sam when Dean flipped them, the younger man getting the wind knocked out of him with the ferocity of the action. His eyes shot wide open when Dean started grinding against him, Sam's body instantly responding to the treatment. “Ungh...Dean,” Sam mumbled, fingers digging into the vampire's biceps. “What're you doing?”

Feeling like he'd taken enough, Dean finally pulled back, lapping at the skin where Sam's blood pooled against the wounds. He knew that he needed to get Sam upstairs and patch him up, but this was more important right now. His hand slid between their bodies, skilled fingers working the fastenings of Sam's jeans before he reached into Sam's boxers and pulled his cock out. “So hard, Sammy,” he mumbled, licking Sam's wound once more.

Dean's hand moved to his own jeans then, undoing them as well before he pulled out his aching member. With one hand pressed against the couch behind Sam's hand, Dean wrapped his free hand around both of their cocks, stroking in time with his thrusts. “God, Sammy,” he breathed, head tilted back in ecstasy as he fucked his own hand. He wasn't going to last long. Sam had him strung out like a tight rope for the last month almost, and now that he was getting what he wanted – well, sort of – Dean wasn't going to last. “Cum with me, Sammy,” he ordered.

Almost as if his body couldn't resist Dean, Sam's back arched off the couch as the first jet of cum shot from his dick. “Ungh...fuck,” Sam groaned, fingernails leaving half moon shapes in Dean's triceps where he was holding on. His body shuddered as Dean stroked him through his orgasm, breaths panting out of him.

When Dean was finally sated, he pulled back, eyes locked on Sam. “M'sorry,” he mumbled, honestly not even sure where that came from. “When I feed...it's...intense.” That was the only explanation Dean had for Sam right now. Instead of making a big deal about it, Dean pushed himself to a seated position, tucking his spent member back into his jeans. “You should let me take care of that bite wound.”

Not waiting for Sam's response, Dean headed up the stairs, hoping that Sam would follow him. Much to his surprise, the younger man did as he was told. He was sitting on Dean's bed when he came out of the bathroom with the peroxide and the bandages. Sam didn't look at him when he knelt down between his legs, placing the supplies he'd gathered on the bed beside Sam.

“Why are you nice to me?” Sam asked, his face pinching in discomfort when Dean turned his head to the side so he could see what he was doing. “You're a vampire. And I'm a hunter. You should want to kill me.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean started working on Sam's wound. “It's not that simple,” he muttered. “You're...different. You're special.”

If Sam had a dollar for every time some evil thing told him he was different, or special, his family wouldn't have to hustle people or commit credit card fraud to make a living. Snorting out a laugh, Sam barely managed to resist shaking his head. “I'm not special. Or different. I'm just your average hunter.”

A deep frown came to Dean's lips when Sam argued with him. “No, you're not,” he assured him. “You're the reason Jo brought me back.” Sighing, he figured that he should finally tell Sam the truth about who he was. “Back in 1842, I was with my mate. His name was Samuel – he looked just like you. He sounded just like you. Hell, he even smelled like you, Sam. We were at a bar one night, getting blood from a couple of our donors. We didn't feed off humans unless we had to, and even then, they were always people who asked for it. 

“Anyway, we were feeding from our donors, and a hunter attacked us. He...stabbed Samuel with a silver blade. I had to watch him die. After he was gone, I didn't have anything to live for anymore. So, I just gave up. Eventually, I desiccated. But then Jo brought me back. She force fed me blood from a blood bag and woke me up. Because of you, Sam. You may not remember it, but you're him. You're Samuel – you're _mine_.”

As soon as Dean finished up his story, he was luckily finished with Sam's bandage as well. Quickly, Sam shot up, shaking his head. “No, I'm not,” he assured Dean. “I would know if I was some reincarnation of a vampire, Dean!”

It was clear that he'd upset the younger man, which hadn't been Dean's intention. It was a lot to take in – Dean understood that. Hell, he was still trying to process it, and he wasn't even the one who was reincarnated. “Sammy, I know it's a lot to deal with, okay?” he started, pushing himself to his feet. “But you can remember. You just have to accept it. Accept _me_.” Slowly, Dean leaned in, forehead pressing against Sam's as his hands gripped the younger man's hips. “I know you feel it. Deep down, you know, baby.”

With as much strength as Sam could muster, he shoved Dean back. “You're wrong!” he argued. “I'm not Samuel. I'm _Sam_! I'm _me_! Not him!” Sure, Sam had always felt like somewhat of an old soul, but a _vampire_?! There was no way! “What happened tonight...on the couch? It can't happen again. You and I can hunt together – that's fine. But you keep your damn hands to yourself!”

Quickly, Sam ran out of the room, praying that Dean wouldn't follow him. He needed some time alone. He just needed to think. When he got to his room, Sam slammed the door closed, plopping onto his bed and allowing his elbows to rest on his knees. His fingers carded through his hair, pulling the strands gently. 

**~~**

Over the next few days, Sam and Dean didn't really speak much. It was extremely tense in the house, so Jo stayed away for the most part. That didn't stop her from yelling at Dean and telling him to make Sam talk to him, though. Sometimes, Dean was convinced that his friend had a hero complex – she was so determined to help him all of the time. He didn't want her help. Not with this. Not anymore. After all, it was her fault that he was in this mess to begin with.

For some reason, Jo had this theory that no matter what, he and Sam were going to end up together. Well, he wasn't sure what fairy tale land she was living in, but he wasn't going to be a part of it. The world didn't work like that. People didn't always get their way. No matter how badly they wanted it. And no matter how much they _made it work_ , like Jo liked to tell him to do.

But today, Dean was feeling especially moody. Sam had ignored him during breakfast, and then he'd scampered off to his room to hide. And Jo was giving him dirty looks, and Dean was just done. Sure, it wasn't different from any other day, but today it was pissing Dean off a lot more than usual.

Sighing, Dean closed his eyes as he lay on his bed, listening to Sam moving around in his bedroom. He heard the shower water turn on and his body instantly responded. Dean remembered what Sam's body felt like against his. He remembered the way the younger man tasted as he allowed Dean to drink from him so he could save his life. There was _something_ between the two of them. And Sam couldn't deny it forever.

Mind made up, Dean pushed himself off his bed, striding to Sam's room with determination. This attitude problem Sam had ended today. Dean was tired of it. Without thinking too hard on it, Dean pushed Sam's bedroom open, stripping out of his shirt as he allowed it to close behind him. He did the same with the bathroom door, stripping out of his jeans and socks. 

Once he was completely naked, Dean stepped into the shower behind Sam. The younger man was standing with his hands pressed flat against the wall, back turned toward Dean and his head hung between his arms. The hot water was cascading over Sam's back like a waterfall. And it must have felt good because Sam was moaning softly against the spray, The younger man didn't even realize that Dean had stepped into the shower with him. Momentarily, Dean thought that he needed to teach Sam to be more aware of his surroundings.

Slowly, Dean pressed his body closer to Sam's, arms wrapping around the younger man's waist as he pulled him back against his chest. His cock was achingly hard, pressing against the crack of Sam's ass as he held him. The feeling pulled a deep moan from Dean's throat. “Sammy,” he breathed, mouthing along Sam's jaw, then down lower to his neck. He was really enjoying himself – until Sam shoved him away, hard.

“Dean, what the fuck are you doing in here?!” Sam demanded, obviously upset. His hand shot down between his legs, covering his nakedness. A deep blush steeled over his features as he pressed himself impossibly closer to the wall opposite of Dean. “You can't just come into the shower with someone whenever you want! It's called harassment!”

Rolling his eyes, Dean allowed his gaze to blatantly rove over Sam's body. He was sexy – long, lean body. Tight, washboard abs, and strong, mile long legs. Dean wanted to lick every inch of Sam's body. And the younger man would let him – eventually, Sam would give in. What they had was too strong to ignore for long. “I'm not harassing you,” he assured the younger man. “I've been leaving you alone for days. You don't talk to me, and I don't push it. But I'm tired of it, Sam.”

When Dean's eyes locked on his, Sam quickly looked away. “You said you'd never compel me,” he mumbled, making sure not to lock eyes with Dean. It was true – he had been avoiding Dean. He'd been purposely ignoring him, and staying in different rooms than him because Sam didn't understand what was happening. He'd been doing a lot of research since Dean told him that he was the reincarnation of his dead lover, and he'd learned a lot.

First, he knew that it was possible for someone's soul to travel through space and time only to rest in someone else's body when the opportunity presented itself. Second, he'd learned that usually, when this happens, the recipient of the soul – or the host, as that person was usually referred to – didn't remember a damn second of being violated. Third, memories of the soul's past life could creep up on the host at any time, out of nowhere.

It possibly explained why Sam felt like he was always born into the wrong generation. And why he could sometimes sympathize with the monsters they hunted – maybe because in a past life, he had been one. The thought was unnerving, and he just wanted to forget that Dean had ever told him anything about this.

Dean couldn't hide the hurt that flashed across his face at Sam's words. “I'm not trying to compel you,” he promised, allowing his own gaze to fall when Sam looked at him once more. “I told you that I'd never do that. And I meant it. Every decision with me will be your own, Sam. I promise.” Licking his lips, Dean dared to take a step closer to Sam. “C'mon Sammy,” he breathed, allowing his eyes to rake over Sam's form once more. “It's been days since you've even _talked_ to me, let alone touched me. I need you. Please?”

He knew it was risky, but Dean took another step closer, figuring that Sam hadn't shied away from him last time, so maybe he was safe. “You can't tell me that you don't want me,” he continued. “That you don't feel this. When I was with you? You wanted more. Just like I did. Tell me you didn't, Sammy.”

As Dean walked closer to him, Sam watched him warily. He couldn't deny that when he'd been with Dean on the couch, it had felt good. Well, it had felt _great_ , actually. And maybe, Sam would have even explored that a little more had Dean not dropped this damn bomb shell on him. “Dean,” he started, slowly shaking his head. “I can't.”

Again, Dean took another step, watching as Sam wrapped his free arm around his chest, holding himself tightly. His hand flexed over his crotch as he tried to press himself into the wall even further. “Yes, you can,” Dean coaxed. “What are you afraid of, Sammy?” He was so close that his body was almost touching Sam's now. “Don't fight it. You know you want me.”

A shuddered breath hissed from Sam when Dean got closer, his eyes slipping closed. He did want him. But Sam didn't trust himself right now. He didn't know what he was feeling. He didn't know what were his feelings, and what were Samuel's feelings. Or if it even worked that way. He just _didn't know_! He didn't know _anything_ , and Dean was so damn close, and he couldn't think. “Dean, don't,” he whispered, shaking his head once more even as his body pressed closer to Dean's.

“You want me,” Dean repeated as his hand slowly moved to cover Sam's that was hiding his member from view. “Don't hide from me.” Getting bolder, Dean pulled Sam's hand away, lacing their fingers as he pinned Sam's hand to the wall above his head. “Don't fight me.” 

Without warning, Dean surged forward, capturing Sam's lips with his own. When Sam moaned in surprise, Dean shoved his tongue past Sam's parted lips and teeth, mapping out the hot cavern of Sam's mouth. He pressed closer still, molding their bodies together as he continued to kiss Sam for all he was worth.

Sam did want him. He didn't want to fight anymore. But he was worried that Dean didn't want _him_. Dean wanted _Samuel._ They weren't the same person. Sam was a hunter, born May 2, 1983 – the son of Mary and John Winchester. Older brother to Adam Winchester, whom they'd lost to a demon. He was not Dean's vampire lover from 1842. And he wasn't going to pretend to be someone he wasn't, either.

When Dean's free hand pressed against Sam's chest, sliding lower, Sam finally jumped into action. “Stop,” he groaned, tearing his lips from Dean's as he turned his head. “Don't do this. I can't.” Even as he said the words, Sam couldn't stop his body from pressing into Dean's harder – couldn't stop his body from begging for Dean's touch. “Please...get out. Get out. I don't want this.”

A sharp pang of hurt stabbed through Dean when Sam told him to get out. Sam was still fighting him, and Dean just didn't understand why. But, he pulled back, eyes searching Sam's face. It was clear that he was fighting himself right now – he wanted it, but he was fighting it. Dean hated that Sam was doing this to them. “Sammy, please, don't do this. Don't make me go.”

It was like Dean was testing him. Purposely trying to make him lose his resolve. But he wasn't going to let Dean win this. Sam would come to Dean if he decided that's what he wanted. There was no way Sam was going to let Dean dictate what he did with his life. “Stop,” he ordered, eyes closing as his head rested against the shower wall. “Get away from me. You want my choices to be my own when I'm with you? Then _let me_ choose.”

Shaking his head, Sam pulled his hand away from Dean's. “I can't do this. I-I can't... _think_ when you're around me. It's like my head isn't my own. I _want_ you, and I don't understand it! So please...leave me alone. Just let me figure this out on my own. _Let me decide._ ”

The words cut him like a knife. Dean didn't know that Sam was hurting so badly. His intention was never to make Sam feel like he didn't have a choice in this. “Yeah,” he breathed, pulling away from Sam completely. “I'm sorry. I didn't—I'll go.”

Before Sam even realized what was happening, Dean was gone. Any trace that he'd ever been in the shower with Sam, gone as quickly as Dean had bolted. Vampire speed – he supposed it was a nice thing to have. Sighing, Sam pressed himself into the shower wall harder, a soft sob escaping his lips as he sunk down to a seated position. 

He wasn't sure how long he sat in the shower, knees pulled up to his chest with his chin resting on them. Sam could only imagine that it had been quite a while because by the time he moved to turn off the water, it was cold. He felt horrible. His shower was supposed to make him feel better – not worse. He supposed he had Dean to blame for that.

Sighing, Sam dried himself off, wrapping the towel loosely around his hips before he headed back into his bedroom. Pulling on a pair of baggy sweatpants and a hoodie, Sam padded down the stairs. He was hungry. And honestly, he wanted to talk to Dean. He needed to know more about this reincarnation thing. Dean could probably explain it to him a lot better than some internet article.

When he reached the kitchen, Sam almost ran into Jo. He frowned slightly when she pulled the blood bag away from her lips, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “M'sorry,” she mumbled, lifting the bag towards Sam. “I was hungry. And Brady is out of town. I can put it away.”

“Don't worry about it,” Sam quickly said. “I don't mind. I know you have to eat.” Chuckling softly, Sam ducked his head. “It's your house, anyway. If you want to enjoy a meal in the kitchen, you're more than welcome to. I'm not going to stop you.”

A small smile came to Jo's lips when Sam spoke. The younger man was so polite. “Are you okay?” she asked, noticing that Sam seemed to have something on his mind. She'd heard the conversation between Sam and Dean in their shower. And she'd heard Sam crying afterward. And Dean storming out of here like he'd been evicted for not paying his rent. She hadn't meant to, but she couldn't just turn off her vampire abilities at will.

That was a loaded question. “I...I don't know,” Sam answered honestly. “I just...I wish life wasn't so complicated.” Chuckling to himself, Sam shook his head. “It's Dean. He thinks I'm his dead lover reincarnated, or something. And I...I just don't know what to think. I've been researching, and I just don't know what to believe.”

Jo could see the war Sam was having with himself. She hated seeing him like this. Over the last few weeks, she'd actually grown very fond of Sam. “I wish I could help you,” she mumbled. “But I just don't know what to say. I know what I believe, and what I've learned, but at the end of the day, it's all going to come down to how _you_ feel, Sam.”

How did Sam feel? Well, that was what he was trying to figure out. “I know that there's _something_ there between me and Dean,” he explained. “But I don't know what's my head, and what's not. Like...maybe...knowing what I am...what-what happened to me...maybe it's messing with me. Maybe it's making me feel things that I don't necessarily feel because my soul apparently isn't mine. I don't know anything anymore. I feel so lost.”

Slowly, Jo reached for Sam, rubbing right between his shoulder blades in a soothing motion. “I think you're thinking too much about this,” Jo explained. “You are still you. Just because you know about Samuel now doesn't change the fact that this is you. Being reincarnated...it happens at birth. You don't know any other way of life. It doesn't change who you are just because someone brings it to light. So the things you're feeling...it doesn't matter that Samuel's soul was connected to Dean. It's all you. The feelings are only intensified _because_ of the connection you and Dean share.”

Well, Sam had been looking for answers, and he'd gotten them. “So...what I feel for Dean?” he started, biting into his bottom lip. “It's actually me? Not because I'm some sort of freaky reincarnation of Dean's dead mate?”

Smiling softly, Jo shook her head. “No, it's not because you're reincarnated,” she promised. Bumping shoulders with the younger man, Jo grabbed the blood bag she'd discarded on the counter top. “And you're not a freak.” Her smile widened as she took a sip from her dinner. “Dean went to the night club to find dinner. If you want to go find him.”

Sam felt better. He felt _a lot_ better. “I should go get changed,” Sam smiled, pushing himself away from the counter top. “He has a right to know how I feel. And now that you've cleared that up for me, I don't want to wait to tell him.”

Before Sam could reach the stairs, the door burst open, wood splinters flying through the air. Jo was in action before Sam could even process what was happening. He watched in horror as three people – vampires, he was sure – stormed into the house. Two grabbed Jo by the arms, pulling her backward. Sam quickly sprung into action.

He grabbed the closest vampire to him, bringing his knee up to connect with the thing's gut. He then drove his fist into it's jaw, watching as it fell to the ground. He realized then that the vampire was Luis. Apparently, someone had taken the missing people from this town and was making a vampire army. When he turned toward Jo, she had one of the vampires on the ground, and was fighting the other. 

Just as he was about to jump in and help, Luis got up. He grabbed Sam's arm, twisting it painfully back and pinning it against the small of his back. He cried out in pain as he felt his muscles and tendons pulling in directions they were not meant to pull. “Let me go!” he cried out, kicking his leg, but missing his target. 

Powerless to help, Sam could only watch as Jo was overpowered, pinned to the wall once more. Finally, another vampire came strolling in. He was tall and pale, his beard a brown-ish red color, framing his thin face. When he reached Jo, standing just a few feet in front of her, he smiled softly. His index finger hooked into the stem of his sunglasses, pulling them off his face to reveal dark brown eyes. They were almost black as he stared at her. 

“Joanna Beth,” he greeted, a wide smile on his lips. “I've been waiting a long time to come find you. I wanted to thank you for bringing Dean back to me.” His hand moved to cup Jo's cheek, though she quickly pulled away. “Without you, my plan could have never come into play. So, I thank you. And because of this, I'm going to give you a choice. You can either join me – help me – in the destruction of Dean Smith. Or, you can die. It's your choice, sweetheart.”

Not even wasting a second to think about it, Jo spit in the new arrivals face. “I'd rather die than help you do _anything_ to Dean.” She tried to fight against the hold the vampires had on her, but she couldn't break free. “What's your plan, Alastair? Huh? You think that Dean's just going to come running and offer himself up to you because you have Sam? Please. Dean doesn't give a _shit_ about humans, and you know it.”

Making a _tsk_ ing noise, Alastair pressed his finger to Jo's lips, effectively silencing her. “There is no need to lie to me, Joanna Beth,” he argued. “I have been watching Dean. Doing my homework, some may say. And I've watched Dean with _this_ particular human. And he treats him like some sort of precious thing. So, I'm guessing he won't want this thing harmed.” Smirking, he turned his attention to Sam briefly. “He looks like Samuel. Any fool can see the resemblance.”

Attention now back on Jo, Alastair ran his hand down the side of her long, blonde hair. “One last chance to make the right decision, Joanna Beth.” She didn't even have to respond – the look of pure hatred was enough of an answer for him. “Fine. It's your decision.” Turning his attention to the vampire holding Jo's left arm, he ordered, “Kill her. Slowly – you know how I like it.”

With that, he turned his attention to Sam, striding over to him with purpose. “Now, what are we going to do with you, little one?” Smirking once more, he turned his attention to Luis. “Pack him into the car. We're leaving.”

Just as Sam was being dragged away, he saw one of the vampires thrust a wooden stake into Jo's heart. Sam struggled against Luis, but he was too strong – Sam couldn't break free. “No!” he screamed, trying with everything he had in him to get to his dying friend. “Jo!” Roughly, he was shoved into the trunk of the car. It was the last thing he remembered before his world went black.


	8. Chapter Eight

As soon as Dean stepped into the driveway, he could tell there was something wrong. The smell of blood was thick in the air, causing his eyes to darken with need. If he his heart did beat, he was sure that it would have been beating out of his chest right now. When he got to the door, he saw that it had been kicked in, causing his panic to rise further. “Sammy,” he breathed, sprinting the rest of the way into the house.

“Sam!” he called out, eyes darting around the room. His eyes landed on Jo, lying on the ground in a pool of her own blood with a stake through her heart. “Jo,” he whispered, dropping to his knees and gripping his friend's cheeks. “Jo, wake up!” When she didn't respond, Dean growled in frustration. Quickly, as gently as he possibly could, Dean pulled the stake from her chest, instantly smelling the dead man's blood. 

Without wasting another minute, Dean lifted Jo into his arms. He needed to get her fed. Sam obviously wasn't here – unless he was ignoring him again. But Dean had a feeling from the looks of this place, they'd been attacked. Which meant that Sam had probably been taken. And Jo was the only one who could give him answers. 

Once he had Jo in the car, Dean slid behind the wheel. He had no idea how to drive one of these damn things, but he figured that it couldn't be that hard. He'd picked up the basics from driving around with other people – green means go, red means stop. Yellow means gun it so you don't have to wait at the red light. He could do this.

It was a little touch and go for a minute when he first got moving, but Dean managed to get the hang of it pretty quickly. The first pedestrian he saw, Dean pulled the car over. He groaned inwardly when he saw that it was Jessica Moore. Sighing, he pushed himself from the car. “Jessica!” he called out, waving her down. “Hey, I need your help.”

His eyes locked with Jessica's, keeping her attention on him as his hands came up to her shoulders. “I need you to help Jo. She's dying. She needs to feed from you. And you're going to let her. And you're not going to scream.”

“I'm going to feed Jo,” Jessica responded, a wide smile on her lips. “And I'm not going to scream.” She allowed Dean to lead her to the car, climbing into the back seat with Jo. She tilted her head to the side, offering her neck to the needy vampire.

Dean climbed in on the other side behind Jo, helping her to a seated position. “Hey,” he breathed in his friend's ear. “C'mon, I gotcha. You need to drink.” When Jo didn't seem interested in waking up still, Dean frowned. “Goddammit Jo, drink!” he ordered. Still, Jo didn't wake. Quickly, Dean leaned over her, grabbing the back of Jessica's head and pulling her forward. His teeth sank into her flesh, ripping her open so her blood was flowing.

Not taking hardly any for himself, Dean pulled back, shoving Jessica against Jo. “Now fucking drink!” he ordered. Another few seconds passed, but once she got a taste for it, Jo finally started drinking for herself. Dean sighed happily, head falling back to rest against the back of the seat as his fingers carded through her hair. “God girl,” he praised, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the top of Jo's head as his eyes squeezed closed against the tears threatening to fall. He didn't know what he would have done if he'd lost Jo.

After a few minutes, Jo finally pulled back. Her breaths were coming out in pants as she ran the back of her hand over her mouth, eyes catching Dean's. “Thank you,” she breathed, a small smile coming to her lips as she pushed herself into more of a seated position.

As soon as they compelled Jessica to forget that she had ever seen them that night, Jo climbed into the driver's seat. “We need to go see Bobby,” she explained, throwing the car into reverse and pulling out of the parking spot Dean had them in. “He knows what's happening. We've been tracking this group of vamps for weeks.”

“Weeks?” Dean asked, obviously angry that he hadn't been made aware of the situation. “And in those _weeks_ , you never thought to tell me that there might be a vampire trying to get to me? One that might take _Sam_ to get to _me_?!”

When Dean put it that way, Jo did feel a little bad about it. But how was she supposed to know that Alastair was going to attack them and grab Sam?! From what she and Bobby had been researching, he was just interested in making other vampires. He had been building an army for something. And neither of them had figured it out. Apparently, it was so he could destroy Dean.

Looking back on it now, Jo kind of felt like an idiot. She should have guessed Alastair was going to come after Dean. After all, he was the one who turned him. “Well, Dean, I didn't know!” she argued. “Bobby and I just thought that he was here making vampires. We didn't know why. How was I supposed to know one of your own was going to come back and bite you in the ass?!” Rolling her eyes, Jo chastised, “Besides, you should have told me that you turned Alastair! I thought you just killed him!”

 _Alastiar_ – the name had Dean seeing red. “What?” he demanded, turning in his seat so that he was facing Jo. “I never turned Alastair. I killed that bastard. He was dead when I left him there in that back alley. I drained every last drop of his blood.” He frowned deeply as he thought about how this could have happened. “He must have had vampire blood in his system when he died,” Dean breathed, feeling sick. “I didn't know.”

Anger grew inside Dean. He was an idiot. He should have stayed to make sure that Alastair was dead. But why would he? He'd been a slayer! What the hell was a slayer doing with vampire blood in his system?! “He has Sam,” Dean growled. “We're wasting our time going to Bobby's house! He's not going to do anything! We need to find Alastair!”

While Jo could understand Dean's frustration, going to Bobby's house was the best plan they had right now. “Yeah, I know we do,” she assured Dean. “But do you know where to find him? Because I don't. Bobby is our best bet. He's been watching you for weeks, Dean. He's more prepared than either of us, alright?! So, we're going to Bobby's house, and we're going in smart about this, or we're not going in at all. Do you understand me?”

Dean's eyes ticked to Jo when she bossed him around. He didn't know who the hell she thought she was. If Dean wanted to go after Sam, he was going. No one was going to tell him otherwise. But he had to admit that she had a point. Dean had no idea where to start looking. And if there was one person in the world who could find people, it was Bobby Singer. “Fine,” he grumped, flopping back against the seat. “Just drive faster. The longer he has Sam, the more likely he is to hurt him.” Dean was going to kill him. And this time, Dean was going to make sure he stayed dead.

**~~**

The first thing Sam felt as he woke up was the blinding pain shooting through his head and neck. It felt like he'd been slammed into a brick wall over and over again. Slowly, he blinked his eyes open, brows knit in discomfort when the light penetrated his lids. 

“Ah, good, you're awake!” came a voice from the other side of the room. He was so loud – Sam cringed when the sound made pain burst through his temple. “I was beginning to think that you were going to sleep the night away.”

Sam frowned as the man walked closer to him. His whole body tensed, trying to push himself further back into the chair that he was tied to in an attempt to stay away from his kidnapper. “Who are you?” Sam demanded, eyes darting around the room. “Where did you take me?”

His smile widened when Sam spoke. “Aren't we a curious one?” he teased. “Don't worry, Sam, I'll tell you what you want to know. All in good time. But first, there's someone that I want you to meet.” Turning his upper body towards the back of the room, Alastair called, “Patience, darling, will you come here for me, please?”

The woman emerged from the shadows, head down, eyes cast to the floor. Any fool could tell that she was scared out of her mind. Sam frowned deeply as he watched her move toward Alastair, her whole body shaking. “That's it, c'mon,” Alastair coaxed. When she was close enough, he grabbed her, the young woman's face contorting in a look of pain as he squeezed her arm. “Tell me, is this the reincarnation of Samuel Colt?” His eyes locked on the girl's, fire behind them. “And _don't_ lie to me, girl.”

As soon as she was released, her hand went to her arm, rubbing the pain away. “I-I don't know,” she answered, shaking her head. “It's not that easy! I can't just look at him and tell you!” She winced back as if burned when Alastair leaned in closer. He asked what she needed, and her breaths kicked up a notch. “I-I have to have contact. I can see what's in his head...I just need to be close enough.”

A deep frown came to Alastair's lips when he learned that she had to be close to him. He didn't want to risk any of his pets being close to this hunter. He didn't trust hunters. He had been one in a past life, so he knew how they worked. He knew that they'd do whatever was necessary to get themselves out of a bad situation. His attention quickly turned to Sam. “Are you going to play nice?” he asked, a sneer on his lips. “I'd really hate to have to hurt you for messing with my things.”

Sam didn't want to hurt this girl – he wanted to hurt Alastair. “I won't touch her,” he promised, eyes ticking to the terrified woman. She looked so young. So innocent. He was going to save her from this deranged freak. His eyes turned their attention to Patience. “It's okay,” he assured her. “Just do what you have to do. I won't hurt you. I promise.”

Slowly, Patience walked toward Sam, her whole body still shaking. When she got close enough to touch, she stopped. “This...is going to hurt,” she warned. She at least had the decency to look sympathetic. “I have to root through your mind. Into your memories...and probably back further.” She smiled sadly when Sam just nodded. “I'm sorry,” she whispered before her hands moved to touch the sides of Sam's head.

Pain instantly flared through Sam's body. It started where Patience's hands were, then flowed downward into his neck and shoulders. As she continued to touch him, the pain migrated all the way down to his legs before it felt like it exploded out of his toes. He screamed in pain as she continued to search through his mind for the information Alastair wanted. Sam felt tears tracking down his cheeks as he was powerless to stop whatever Patience was doing to him. 

Darkness was pressing at the edge of his vision. Sam knew that he was going to pass out if this didn't stop soon. Another wave of pain shot through him, eliciting another scream. The last thing he saw was Dean before his world went black, and the pain, thankfully stopped.

When he finally came to, Sam was no longer tied to the chair he'd been in before. Instead, he was lying on a bed in a large room. Sighing, he wiped a hand down his face, blinking a few times to clear his vision. “What the hell?” he asked, pushing himself out of the bed. He strode to the door, trying to open it, only to find that it was locked from the outside. “Great.”

Taking in his surroundings, Sam tried to figure out where he was. The room looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on where or when he'd seen it. The door handle rattling as it opened drew Sam's attention toward the new arrival. He frowned deeply when he saw Alastair walk through the door. “Where the hell am I?” he demanded, making sure to keep his distance from the vampire.

“Do you like it?” Alastair asked, a wide smile on his lips. “I couldn't get the original room, of course since Dean burned it to the ground, but this was the next best thing.” His smile widened as he ran his hand over the large wooden post on the bed frame. “I wasn't convinced that you were actually Samuel when I saw you. I mean, the resemblance was striking, for sure, but that didn't mean anything. But then, Patience saw inside your mind. It was...delicious, from what she tells me. All those memories of Samuel and Dean buried just below the surface.”

As Alastair moved closer to him, Sam backed away. He had no weapons, and he knew that he was no match for this vampire in hand-to-hand combat. “What do you want from me?” Sam asked, keeping his eyes on the enemy in case he tried anything. “Why am I here?”

A small frown came to Alastair's lips when Sam started demanding answers. “You're in no position to be asking questions, Sam,” he assured the younger man, his eyes dark. Giving his whole body a shake, Alastair plastered a smile on his lips once more. “Now, where were we? Oh, yes, the room. Do you like it, Sam?”

There was something wrong with this man – Sam was sure of it. “I guess so,” he answered, looking around the room. “It's big. And kind of plain, in a classy sort of way, I guess.” Frowning, he turned his attention back to Alastair. “Why does that matter?”

Moving closer, Alastair made sure to keep his gaze on Sam. “Because I want you to be comfortable, Sam,” he explained. “I want you to be happy.”

Sam couldn't help but snort out a laugh. “Happy?” he asked, just barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “You came into my friend's house and kidnapped me. Then you brought me here and forced a kid to torture me. And, the worst of all, you killed my friend. How do you expect me to be happy about any of this?”

Again, Alastair frowned at Sam. “She wasn't your friend, Sam,” he assured the younger man. “She was a vampire. Do you think for one second that she wouldn't have turned on you given the chance?” When Sam just stood his ground, Alastiar chuckled. “You're too trusting, Sam. I thought you were a hunter. Aren't you the son of John and Mary Winchester? The greatest, most ruthless hunting duo?”

Now, it was Sam's turn to frown. “Looks like you've done your research,” Sam mused, taking a step back once more when Alastair stepped toward him again. “Just because I'm their son doesn't mean we share the same views. Jo and Dean have done _nothing_ but help me since they came into my life. So I'm a little more inclined to trust them over you.”

Snorting out a laugh, Alastair tipped his head back. “Is that what you think Dean has done?” Alastair asked. “Helped you? Sam, he's had a plan for you since the day he saw you.” He frowned deeply as he took a few steps closer to Sam. “You don't know what he's done, do you? How he's hurt you since the two of you have started hanging out?”

Hurt him? No, that was a lie. Just something else to get back at Dean. Sam couldn't believe that Dean would hurt him. “Hurt me how?” Sam asked, glaring at the other vampire. “All Dean has done since I met him is be a friend to me. He took me in when I had nowhere to go. He told me about who I really am. He's helped me with this case – _your_ case – more than my own parents have! So what the hell makes you think I'm going to believe _anything_ you have to say?”

On a roll now, Sam continued, “All you've done since I've known you is hurt me. You killed my friends. And I'm not talking about just Jo. Luis – your lackey out there – he was my friend. And that girl at the house who attacked Jo. Rachel? She was my prom date! So don't you dare come in here acting all innocent. Your goal here is to hurt Dean, and I know it, you sanctimonious psychopath!”

Anger was clear on Alastair's face at Sam's words. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I'm just getting you away from the real psychopath?!” Alastair yelled, obviously enraged. “Do you even know Dean? Who he _really_ is? C'mon, Sam, you can't tell me that a trained hunter like yourself didn't do your research.”

“I did my research,” Sam assured the vampire. “Dean Smith – vampire. Born in the late 1600s. Turned into a vampire by Cassie Robinson. For years, he was a sadistic killer. He didn't care about anyone or anything. Until he suddenly fell off the grid. I'm assuming that's when he met Samuel. There hasn't been a report of him since then. But he told me that he and Samuel didn't kill humans. That they didn't even feed from them unless they were willing donors. And then one night, he ran into a slayer. And he lost everything.” Feeling tears well up in his eyes, Sam continued, “So that night, he went out and killed the person responsible for taking his life away from him. And then he desiccated in an alleyway. So yeah, I've done my homework.”

Obviously impressed, Alastair nodded. “Well, that's pretty good detective work,” he smiled. “There's just a few small details that you left out. First, he didn't kill that slayer – he turned him into a vampire.” He could tell that Sam was confused, which brought another smile to his lips. “There was no way he could have known that he was siring the man. No one knew what he did late at night in his own home. But being a slayer was a dangerous gig – it was always good to have a back up plan.”

Confused, Sam shook his head. “How could you possibly know all of this?” he asked. Suddenly, it hit him. “It was you. You were the slayer. You killed Samuel that night.”

When Sam filled in the blanks, Alastair clapped once, pointing at Sam. “Bingo! And the grand prize goes to Sam Winchester,” he congratulated. “That night when I saw the two of them in that club, I had to act. Because it was the right thing to do. You see, I _knew_ Samuel before he became a monster. He was actually my partner.” Alastair's eyes raked over Sam's form. “In more ways than one.”

He snapped out of his almost trance-like state when he realized Sam was fidgeting under his gaze. “Anyway, one night, a hunt went bad. I couldn't get to Samuel in time. The vampires drug him off, and I never found his body. Until three years later when I saw him in that club with Dean.” Alastair's eyes were distant as he continued to recall his story – almost as if he was in that moment instead of in the present. “That night, when I attacked them, the blow was meant for Dean. I never meant to hurt Samuel. He just stepped in the way! I would have _never_ hurt him! Regardless of what he was!”

Sam actually felt a little bad for Alastair when he heard his side of the story. “Is that why I'm still alive?” Sam asked, frowning deeply. “Because Patience told you that I'm Samuel reincarnated?” When Alastair merely looked at him, Sam chuckled humorlessly. “I don't remember anything about being this Samuel guy that you're all so obsessed with! I'm just _Sam_! That's all I remember! All I know right now! Other than the fact that you're twisted plan to keep me here isn't going to work. Dean's going to come for me. And he's going to kill you.”

Eyes narrowed, Alastair hissed, “How can you be so sure? You can't honestly tell me that you have feelings for that monster!”

While Sam may not know a lot about what was happening right now, he did know one thing. “Dean is _not_ a monster,” he argued, teeth clenched in anger. “He's a good man. And I'm not going to sit here and let you talk about him like you know him when you clearly don't!”

“He's not even a _man_!” Alastair burst. “He's a monster. A _vampire_! He did this to me! And he's obviously trying to corrupt you!” Closing the distance between himself and Sam, capturing the younger man against the wall, Alastair asked, “How can you be so sure your thoughts are your own, Sam? Huh? Dean's a vampire, you know. We have the ability to compel humans.”

Although he was pressed against the wall, trapped like an animal, Sam held his ground. Standing to his full height, Sam answered, “Because Dean would never compel me. He promised that he wouldn't. And I believe him.”

Another wide smile came to Alastair's lips when Sam explained Dean's promise to him. “Oh, right,” he chuckled, pulling away from Sam. “I guess only your girlfriend is allowed to be compelled, huh Sam?” He could see the moment that realization hit the younger man. “You see, Dean wanted you _all_ to himself. So he took poor, sweet little Jessica aside, and he compelled her to leave you. And when she did – against her will, I might add – who was there for you? To be your white knight? None other than Dean. So, he might not compel you, Sam. But there are other ways to manipulate you.”

As much as Sam hated to admit it, that actually made sense. He'd been thinking it himself for a while now, but he'd never let himself believe it. Until now. But honestly, why should he be mad about that? He knew that he and Jessica were bad for each other. The life he lived? It was too dangerous to have another person in it who wasn't already in the life. He knew that he and Jessica were living on borrowed time – even if he hadn't wanted to admit it to himself. Actually, Dean had _saved_ Jessica. He'd saved her from _Sam_.

Still standing his ground, Sam warned, “If your motive is to turn me against Dean, it's not going to work.” His eyes locked on Alastair. “So he's made mistakes. Haven't we all? I will _not_ help you with whatever sick plans you have to destroy him.”

A deep frown came to Alastair's lips when Sam refused him. “Oh, won't you?” he asked. “You know the funny thing about humans, Sam. They're so...easily controlled.” His hand shot up to grip Sam's chin, forcing Sam to lock gazes with him once more. When he had Sam's eyes locked on his, Alastair opened his mind, willing Sam to do as he was told. “Maybe you won't be so inclined to believe that Dean's such a good person if you know the whole story. _Remember_ what happened to you before. Samuel...I know you're in there. Just let it all go.”

When Sam was released, he fell to his knees, his breaths panting out of him. Visions of his past life flashed behind his lids, making Sam's head hurt once more. It was like he was watching his life unfold out of his own body – only it wasn't him. It was Samuel. 

Finally, the pain subsided, leaving Sam stunned and still achy. He felt Alastair's fingers under his chin, forcing his head up so he was looking at him. “I remember,” he whispered, his breaths still coming out in soft pants. “I remember all of it.”

Smiling widely, Alastair knelt down in front of Sam. “I knew you would, Samuel,” he assured the younger man. “Now you see what I mean. You know everything about what happened to you.” His fingers carded through Sam's hair. “You remember _us_.”

Oh, Sam remembered, all right. He remembered _everything_ that Alastair had done to him while he was with him. He remembered how when those vampires came for them, he'd begged them to kill him. _Anything_ was better than being stuck with that monster. “Yeah,” Sam answered, nodding. “I remember.”

Again, Alastair smiled. “So, you'll help me then?” he asked, eyes shining with whatever twisted version of love he thought was real. “Dean has to go if we want to be together again, Samuel. He won't stop. He'll _never_ stop. And I can't lose you. Not again.”

Sam knew that his only choice was to play along. A small smile came to his face as he played the role of loving friend. “Yes,” he answered. “I know that's the only way. I'll help you destroy Dean for what he's done.”

Before Sam knew what was happening, Alastair leaned in, crushing his lips against Sam's. The kiss didn't last long because Sam pulled away, but Alastair didn't think anything of it. Pressing Sam's cell phone into his palm, Alastair instructed, “Call him. Tell him to meet you at the Blue Bird motel. Don't let him think anything is wrong.”

With that, Alastair stood, leaving the room. He trusted that Samuel would do as he was told. After all, they were both working toward the same goal. By the end of the evening, Dean was going to be in the ground where he belonged. And Samuel was going to be his forever.


	9. Chapter Nine

Jo sighed as she knocked on the door, shoving her hand into her back pocket once more. Her eyes were locked on Dean as she waited for Bobby to answer the door. He wasn't himself right now. She could tell that he was angry, and he was letting the anger lead him. Of course, she also knew there was nothing she could do about it right now other than find Sam, so that's what they were going to do.

When the door opened, she smiled at Bobby, giving the older man a hug. “Hi Bobby,” she greeted, stepping into his home when he made space for her. “I'm sorry to give you such short notice. It's just that he kind of caught me by surprise. He showed up at my house with a few of his lackeys. They staked me with a dead man's blood and took off with Sam. If Dean hadn't found me when he did, I'd be dead.” Sighing once more, she took a seat on the couch, crossing her legs. “So, needless to say, I want this bastard dead as soon as possible.”

If there was one thing Bobby knew about Jo, it was that the girl could hold a grudge. And he couldn't really blame her in this instance. If someone had come at him with a stake laced with dead man's blood, he would have held a grudge too. He smiled when he saw Dean. “Hey, kid,” he greeted, opening his arms for a hug.

It had been ages since Dean had seen Bobby. Back in the day, the man had been like a father to him. Hell, he'd posed as Dean's father on more than one occasion, actually. “Hey Bobby,” he smiled, going in for a quick hug. “Uh...look, sorry to just barge in and be all business, but Alastair has Sam. We need to get him back.”

Nodding, Bobby closed the door behind Dean. “I heard about Sam,” he explained. “Jo tells me that he's the reincarnation of Samuel. That's... _very_ rare. It's no wonder he's been taken. Judging by what I've heard about this Alastair, I would imagine he's going to try to use Sam to get to you.” He frowned slightly as he rummaged through his books to find his computer. “I hate to say it, Dean, but you need to be prepared for the worst.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Dean asked, frowning deeply at the older vampire. Of course, Dean knew exactly what Bobby was talking about. If a vampire wanted to come at him, the best way would be through Sam. There was the possibility that Sam was dead. Dean knew that – but he sure as hell wasn't going to prepare himself for that.

Frown still firmly in place, Bobby answered, “You know exactly what it means, boy.” His attention turned back to his books, tossing each one aside until he finally unburied his computer. “Come take a look at what I found. I've been doing some research. It looks like Alastair has been going after people who bare a _very_ close resemblance to Sam. He must have heard about the reincarnation and started looking years ago.”

Now, it was Jo's turn to be confused. “Why?” she asked, arms crossed over her chest. “No one knew that Dean was alive. He's been desiccated for the last two hundred years. So, this couldn't have been about him.”

Anger bubbled inside of Dean as he read the articles on the computer screen. “He wasn't looking for me,” he assured the two vampires. “He was looking for Sam.” He could see that his friends were confused, but Dean didn't want to get into the whole story right now. They didn't have time to waste. This was worse than he'd originally thought. “Look, I don't have time to explain everything to you guys right now. All you need to know is that Alastair was obsessed with Samuel. He thought they had some sort of great love, or some shit. But Samuel told me what really happened behind closed doors.”

Angrily, Dean pointed at the computer. “Someone who knows how to use this thing needs to try to figure out where Sam is,” he ordered. “We need to get him away from Alastair. This was never about me. He probably wishes that I had just stayed dead. This was always about Sam. Me being alive was just the icing on the cake.”

Before anyone had a chance to speak, Dean's phone rang. Quickly, Dean dug the device out of his pocket, relief washing over him when he saw Sam's name on the caller I.D. “Sammy?” he answered, holding his finger up to Bobby and Jo when they started walking closer to him. “Where the hell are you? Are you alright?”

“I'm fine, Dean,” Sam answered. “I remember. Everything about what happened in Samuel's life – I remember it, now.” He heard Dean sigh on the other line, and he wished like Hell he could tell the other man the truth. But he couldn't risk Alastair knowing he wasn't on his side. “I need you to come get me. I'm at the Blue Bird. I shook Alastair and his guys, but I think they're still after me. And...this is a real funky town. Come get me?”

 _Funky town_ – Sam was in trouble. “Yeah,” Dean answered, brows knit. “I can be there in three hours. Don't go anywhere. Text me which room you're in.” With that, Dean hung up the phone, slipping it back into his pocket. “I gotta go. Sam's in trouble.”

As Dean turned to leave, Jo grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Hey, you can't go alone!” she argued. “If Alastair knows you're coming, then he has the advantage! You'll be walking right into a trap!” She knew Dean couldn't be that stupid. Of course, love made people do crazy things, so she wasn't banking on anything. “I'm coming with you.”

Shaking out of Jo's grip, Dean argued, “No, you're not. Look, Alastair thinks you're dead, and we need to keep it that way. In case he gets in a lucky shot. If that happens, someone needs to be around to protect Sam.”

Not taking no for an answer, Jo started pulling on her jacket that she'd discarded on the couch. “Yeah, and Bobby can protect Sam,” she argued. “I'm coming with you. There's no way you can expect me to just sit here and wait, Dean. I've already lost you once. I won't do it again.”

It was blatantly obvious that Jo wasn't going to take no for an answer. And while Dean didn't like it, he really couldn't blame her. Sighing, his gaze ticked up to Bobby, silently telling him that if they didn't make it back, he was in charge of Sam. “Fine,” he ground out finally. “But if you die, I'm telling.”

With that, the two of them headed out. Jo climbed behind the wheel, waiting for Dean to climb into the car. When he told her that they were headed to the Blue Bird motel, she gunned the engine. It was about a three hour drive from here – she had every intention of making it in two. “You know we're going to get him back, right?” Jo finally said, breaking the tense silence.

Honestly, Dean wasn't sure what to believe right now. All he knew was that Alastair had Sam in his clutches, and he hated it. “He remembers,” Dean blurted out, trying to take his mind off of everything else that was happening right now. “Sam told me that he remembers everything. Every detail of Samuel's life – just like that, he remembers.”

For a split second, Jo took her eyes off the road to look at Dean. She blinked a few times then, mouth agape as she turned her attention back to the road. “So...what does that mean?” she asked. She was afraid that she already knew the answer, but confirmation never killed anybody.

“Probably that he was compelled to remember,” Dean answered, hating Alastair even more in that moment if it was possible. “And if Alastair compelled him to remember, then there's no telling what else he's compelling Sam to do.” Dean had to at least consider the possibility that Sam wasn't going to be himself when he got there. It was a hard pill to swallow, but he needed to be prepared.

Without saying a word, Jo pressed on the gas pedal a little harder. The car accelerated, but she knew it wasn't fast enough. The rest of the drive was done in silence. It was almost like she could hear the seconds ticking by – she could only imagine what it felt like for Dean if it was this hard for her. 

Finally, they arrived in the parking lot. Dean pulled a pair of cuffs out of his jacket, locking Jo to the steering wheel. “I'm sorry,” he apologized, frowning deeply at his friend. “But this is my fight. And I won't let you get hurt for me.”

Jo was screaming his name as Dean climbed out of the car, demanding to be left go. But he didn't listen. He'd already put Sam in danger – he wasn't going to do the same to his best friend. For all he knew, she was going to be all he had left after this. When he reached the door, Dean pushed it open, moving through the hallways to find Sam's room. 

Once he found room 109, he stopped. For a minute, all he could do was stand outside of the door. He could feel Sam inside, but he couldn't make himself move. For the first time in almost 500 years, Dean felt fear – it wrapped around him like a freezing cold blanket, gripping every part of his body. Dean had no idea what he was going to find behind that door.

His hand was shaking as he reached for the knob, turning it slowly. The door wasn't locked, so it opened easily under his hand. As soon as he saw Sam, Dean felt relief wash over him. The younger man still had all of his limbs, and from what Dean could tell, Sam was fine. “Sammy,” he breathed, not even thinking as he stepped into the room and pulled Sam into his embrace.

As soon as Dean was hugging him, Sam felt safe. “Dean,” he whimpered, allowing his body to relax into the older man. “God, you shouldn't have come here. You know this is a trap, right? Alastair _made_ me call you. He's not going to stop until you're dead, Dean.”

Pulling back, Dean held Sam's upper arms, keeping the younger man at arm's length. “I know he did,” Dean assured Sam. “What else did he make you do, Sammy?” Dean wasn't an idiot. He knew that if Sam was compelled, he wouldn't be able to tell Dean. But there was always a loop hole. Dean just needed to find it. “Where is he now?”

Much to his annoyance, Sam couldn't remember if Alastair had made him do anything else. “N-Nothing that I know of,” Sam answered, shaking his head. “He...thinks that I love him. I'm guessing he didn't compel me because of it, but I honestly don't know. So...you can't trust me right now.” Sam's lips still tingled from where Alastair had plastered one on him. He felt dirty – disgusting. “He's at a warehouse a few blocks from here. He said he didn't want an audience.”

A warehouse – Dean could work with that. “Okay,” he nodded, licking his lips as he glanced around the room. “Sammy, listen to me. Jo is outside in the car handcuffed to the steering wheel.” Seeing that Sam was going to ask questions, Dean shook his head once more, pressing his index finger to Sam's lips. “I don't have time to explain it, alright? I have to go. Alastair has to be stopped. He'll never stop coming after you if I don't do this.”

“Dean, I'm coming with you,” Sam argued. “You can't do this on your own. I won't let you.” Sam wanted Alastair dead just as much as Dean did. The man was responsible for Sam's memories – memories he hadn't wanted. And worse, he was responsible for _hurting_ Samuel. He thought he had been rid of him, but Alastair had somehow come back – like some kind of disease he couldn't shake.

Not even entertaining the idea, Dean quickly shook his head. “No, you're not,” he argued. “I want you as far away from Alastair as possible! If he has the chance, he'll grab you and run. I can't take that chance. I need you to go with Jo. She can keep you safe.”

Anger bubbled up inside of Sam. “I don't need a damn babysitter, Dean!” Sam yelled. “I can help! And you know this is a trap! I'm coming with you. I can handle myself.”

Unable to hold back the laugh that erupted from him, Dean shook his head. “Oh, you mean like you _handled yourself_ when he kidnapped you?!” It was a low blow, and Dean knew it. But he needed Sam to understand that he was doing this for his own good. Dean needed to keep Sam out of harm's way. “Look Sammy, I can't lose you. I've already gone through that once. I can't do it again. I won't.”

Sam frowned deeply when Dean argued with him again. “What about me?” he asked, jaw set. “How do you think I'm going to feel if I lose you?” He could see it in Dean's eyes that he hadn't thought about that possibility. “Yeah, you didn't even consider it. So shut up. I'm going with you. And you're not going to stop me.”

Now it was Dean's turn to frown. “What makes you think I won't stop you?” Dean asked, head tilted to the side as he studied Sam. “You know that I'm a vampire, right? I'm stronger than you. I'm faster than you. You can't _make_ me listen to you.”

It was true. Sam couldn't make Dean do anything, and he knew it. “No, I can't,” he agreed. “But you'll listen to me.” He could tell that Dean was intrigued with his reasoning, so Sam continued, “You'll listen to me because you love me. And you trust me.”

Again, Dean frowned at Sam. It was true – on both counts. Which was even more of a reason to keep Sam away from Alastair where he knew he was safe. “Really?” Dean asked, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes at Sam. “If anything, that makes me want to keep you away from him even more.”

He wasn't backing down from this. “I'm not letting you make me stay here,” Sam argued. “I need to go with you, Dean. Please?”Sam couldn't even really explain it for himself, so he hoped that Dean didn't ask why he wanted to go so badly. All he knew was that he couldn't just sit around and wait for Dean to handle it. 

Realizing that he wasn't going to get anywhere by arguing with Sam, Dean finally caved. “Fine,” he grumped. “But you're going to let me handle this. You can come, but stay out of the way. And don't get yourself hurt. If you die on me, I'll kill you.”

A wide smile split Sam's face when Dean agreed to let him come along. “You won't have to kill me,” Sam promised. “I'll already be dead.” Leaning in, he pressed his lips to Dean's as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

When Sam kissed him, Dean gasped in shock. Sam hadn't ever just leaned in and planted one on him. And now he just did it as if it was just any other Wednesday. Dean wasn't sure if he should count this as a win, or if he should be suspicious about the action. Right now, he just didn't know what to believe. With Alastair running around, nothing was safe.

Once he left the motel, Dean headed towards the car where he'd left Jo. She looked pissed when he got there. “I found Sam,” he smiled, trying to lighten the mood. Opening Jo's door, Dean released her from the cuffs, barely dodging the swing that came his way. “Hey!” he hissed. “I told you this was for your own good. Now, c'mon, we don't have a lot of time. Sam's already on his way to the warehouse. Alastair's going to be there.”

“Oh, so now you _want_ me involved?” Jo snarked, obviously still annoyed. Rolling her eyes, Jo climbed out of the car, pushing past Dean roughly. “The only reason I'm helping you right now is because I'm a good friend. And I actually care about what happens to Sam.”

At this point, Dean didn't really care why he was getting Jo's help. He was just grateful to have his friend by his side. With Sam being so unpredictable, he figured that he was going to need all of the help he could get. At least Alastair thinking Jo was dead gave Dean an advantage. He hadn't wanted to use his friend like this, but the vampire hadn't really given him too many options when he took Sam. And now that Sam was in the equation, Dean wanted his best friend to have his back.

Maybe she had been right – maybe they were stronger together.

It didn't take long before they were standing outside of the warehouse. Dean grabbed Sam's arm when he tried to enter the building, holding him tightly. “”What did I tell you?” he asked, a deep frown on his lips. Gently, Dean pushed Sam back against Jo, giving his friend a stern look. “I'll handle this.”

With that, Dean raised his booted foot, slamming it into the double doors. There was no need to be subtle here. Alastair knew he was coming, so Dean didn't need to try to sneak around. It was better to make an entrance as far as he was concerned. His eyes darted around the room, finally narrowing when they landed on Alastair. “I heard you wanted to see me,” he greeted, grinning at his foe.

Alastair matched Dean's grin when he saw the older man. “Dean, it's been such a long time,” he greeted. “Too long.” His eyes darted around the room, looking for Sam. “Have you seen my boy? Surely, he must have told you where to come.” Shaking his head, Alastair frowned. “Let me guess – you're trying to hide him from me again? Just like you always do. Trying to keep him all to yourself when we both know who he really wants.”

His eyes looked past Dean, a wide grin coming to his lips when he saw Sam. “There he is,” he chuckled. “The man of the hour. _My_ man.” Alastair allowed his eyes to lock on the woman behind Sam then. “And Joanna Beth. I thought I had my minions kill you. Oh well, no matter. Let me guess – you're here to help Dean kill me?”

Instead of allowing Jo to answer, Dean took a step further into the room, blocking both Sam and Jo from view. “Don't talk to them,” he barked. “This is between you and me. Leave them the hell out of it!”

Again, Alastair grinned at Dean. “Is this between you and me?” he asked. “Actually, it's between you, me, and Samuel. Why do you think I made him remember everything about our past, Dean?! So he could finally make a decision, once and for all. The _right_ one this time. The decision that will destroy you...once and for all.”

Unable to hold back his laughter, Dean nearly doubled over. “Are you serious?” he asked, brows knit in confusion. If Alastair thought for one second that Sam was going to choose him over Dean, then Dean really felt bad for the guy. He was obviously delusional. “Do you honestly think that Sam wants _anything_ to do with you? After what you did to him?!”

Now, Alastair was confused. “What I did to him?” he asked, shaking his head. “I did _nothing_ but love him! I taught him _everything_ he knew about hunting! I showed him how to be one of us, and I showered him with love, affection, and gifts the entire time!” Angrily, Alastair pointed a finger at Dean. “It was _you_ who corrupted him!” he accused. 

“Samuel!” Alastair called out, his eyes never leaving Dean. “Come here. Come to me.” A small grin came to his lips as he saw Sam start to walk towards him. However, it quickly disappeared when Dean grabbed Sam's elbow, stopping him in his tracks. “Let him go, Dean. We're going to settle this once and for all.”

Dean all but growled when Sam started walking toward Alastair. “Don't,” Dean warned, moss green eyes locked on Sam. He couldn't tell if Sam was compelled to do as he was told or not, and it pissed him off more than Alastair claiming that Sam loved him did. If the younger man had been compelled, there was no telling what Alastair would make him do when he got close enough to grab him. “Sam, stay here with me.”

As Alastair watched Dean grab Sam, he couldn't hold back his frustration. Moving toward the two men, Alastair blocked the attack from Dean when he got close enough to touch them. His free hand wrapped around Sam's wrist, tugging the younger man out of Dean's grip and toward the center of the room. He ignored Sam's protests, instead locking gazes with the younger man. “Stay here, and keep quiet until I ask you to speak,” he ordered. 

All the fight left Sam in a rush when Alastair told him to stay where he was. He tried with everything he had to fight it, but he just couldn't. His body wouldn't listen to his mind – it was like there was some kind of disconnect. He hated the feeling of helplessness.

Anger made Dean see red. “That's nice,” he spat out, keeping his eyes locked on Sam. “Compel him to do whatever you want him to do. Is that love?” Dean could tell the jab hurt Alastair a lot more than any physical punch could. “You see, when I talk to Sam, I actually let him make his own decisions. Which is why he'll pick me every damn time.”

Clearly on edge, Alastair turned his attention to Dean. “Shut up!” he ordered. “You are so self righteous! You think that just because you stole him from me when he was weak and vulnerable, you're the obvious choice!” Chuckling, Alastair argued, “I don't expect you to understand the love that Samuel and I had for each other. You can't possibly! You don't have a soul!”

Unlike Dean's words, Alastair's barely made Dean flinch. He was well aware that he had no soul – it was no secret. “And that's just testament to the fact that I'm the better man,” he taunted. “You had a soul when you did all of those things to him. When you forced yourself into his bed. When you _made_ him do those things to you! He told me everything! Like when that night those vampires came and attacked the two of you, he didn't even fight back! He _welcomed_ death because anything was better than being stuck by your side for another minute!”

With Dean's last word, Alastair snapped. He growled loudly as he rushed Dean, catching the vampire by the waist and driving them both into the ground. “You have _no_ idea what you're talking about!” Alastair accused. He threw a punch that connected with Dean's jaw. A second blow on the opposite side quickly followed.

When Alastair raised his fisted hands above his head, Dean blocked the attack. Roughly, he shoved the vampire off of him. Jo came barreling into Alastair from the other side of the room, knocking the vampire onto the ground. Alastair caught himself though, rolling so that he landed on his knees. He glared at the two vampires before he turned his attention to Sam. “Samuel, kill her!” he ordered, smiling when Sam moved to wrap his long arms around Jo's waist, pulling her away from the fight.

Dean growled low in his throat when Alastair ordered Sam to kill Jo. He knew that if he didn't win this fight – and quickly – his friend was going to die. She wouldn't fight back when it came to Sam. Dean knew that. “You bastard,” Dean growled, rushing Alastair. He didn't understand how the vampire had so much control over Sam. He hadn't even made eye contact with the younger man when he ordered him to kill Jo. Dean wanted to know how Alastair was so damn powerful.

The fight raged on, Dean getting a few good hits in. Unfortunately, the fight was leaning in Alastair's favor. Dean was distracted – to worried about what was happening between Sam and Jo to focus on his own problems. He cried out in pain when Alastair kicked out at him, his booted foot connecting with Dean's knee.

He felt the bone shatter, sending him to his knees. Of course, Dean knew that it would heal, so he wasn't all that worried about it. Though it would take time. And he didn't have time right now. Alastair came up to him, blood running from his nose and dripping down the side of his face where Dean had split his cheek open. Dean grunted in pain when Alastair gripped the back of his hair, forcing Dean's head back at an awkward angle. “You lose, Dean,” Alastair spat. “Samuel is now, and will forever be, mine.”

Just as Alastair was about to land the killing blow, Dean squeezed his eyes closed. He tried to will his aching body to move – to fight back – but it was useless. He was too broken. However, the blow never came. Instead, Alastair grunted in pain, his slate blue eyes wide in a mixture of shock and pain. His grip on Dean vanished as he turned his body slowly toward his attacker. “Samuel,” he groaned, falling to his knees.

Without acknowledging Alastair, Sam quickly dropped to his knees in front of Dean. He was convinced that the dead man's blood pulsing through Alastair's system was enough to keep him down for a while. “Hey,” Sam breathed, hands cupping Dean's face. “Look at me. Are you okay?” He frowned deeply when Dean merely gave him a weak nod in response. 

Jo quickly came up behind Sam. She stared down at Alastair briefly before she kicked him in the side. “Dick,” she muttered. Satisfied with her revenge for the moment, she turned her attention to Sam and Dean. “We need to get him fixed up. He needs blood.” Looking around the warehouse, Jo mumbled, “Where are all of his lackeys. He had humans working for him. Dean can drink from them.”

“No,” Sam argued, shaking his head as he wiggled closer to Dean. “There's no telling how long it will take to find them. Or if they'll even be clean when you do. He needs blood now.” Turning his attention to Jo, Sam bit into his bottom lip. “I'll take care of Dean. Go get the car. We need to load him into the trunk and get out of here.”

Although Jo wanted to argue, she knew that it wouldn't do any good. Sam was even more stubborn than Dean, which she hadn't even thought was possible. “Fine,” she ground out, setting off with vampire speed to get the car like she'd been instructed to.

Once Jo was gone, Sam turned his attention back to Dean. “You need to drink,” he ordered. “C'mon, drink from me. You gotta heal.” Sam pressed Dean's face into the crook of his neck much like he'd done the night Dean had been infected with dead man's blood. One hand stayed fisted in the short strands of Dean's hair while the other hand slid down Dean's back, fingertips barely ghosting over clothed flesh to grip Dean's bicep. “Drink, Dean.”

When Sam ordered him to drink, Dean did. He wasn't scared that he would hurt Sam – he was lucid enough to know when enough was enough. As he drank deeply, Dean felt his body already beginning to heal itself. It wasn't long before Dean pulled back, not taking nearly as much as he needed to heal properly. He could let his body do the rest on the ride home. Right now, Sam needed to be able to walk out of here on his own two legs. “Thanks,” Dean breathed, tongue darting out to lick Sam's blood off the corner of his mouth.

Before Sam could say anything, a hand landed on his shoulder, tugging him backward. Alastair's fangs were inches away from his wound before Sam even had time to react. However, before Alastair could get a taste, Dean snapped his neck, all but yanking Sam into his lap. The pressure of Sam's body on his abused knee had Dean hissing in a pained breath. “Shit,” he growled. “Are you alright?”

Quickly, Sam pushed himself off Dean's lap. “Yeah, Dean, I'm fine,” he promised. “Here, let me help you.” With a little effort, Sam got Dean to his feet, helping the vampire walk to the car that Jo had pulled around to the front entrance. “Careful with him,” Sam warned when Jo went to get Alastair. “He's still a little feisty.”

Assuring Sam that she could handle Alastair, Jo disappeared into the warehouse, trusting Sam to get Dean into the car. It was slow going, but Sam managed to get both of them into the back seat, Sam allowing Dean to rest his injured leg on top of him. Once Jo tossed Alastair into the trunk, she climbed behind the wheel. The ride to Bobby's house was done in silence, Jo taking time every few minutes to check on her sleeping boys in the back seat.


	10. Chapter Ten

Sam frowned as he stared at the door to the panic room in Bobby Singer's basement. He'd been down here for almost thirty minutes just staring at the door. His pistol felt heavy in his palm. Beyond that door, Alastair was tied up like a Christmas ham. The dead man's blood was still in his system, and Sam had every intention of getting it out of there before he put a silver bullet through his heart.

Hearing footsteps coming down the stairs, Sam turned his attention away from the door finally. He smiled softly when he saw Dean walking toward him. “Hey,” he greeted, melting into Dean's arms when the older man wrapped him in his embrace. “You're all healed up.”

“Yeah,” Dean answered, nuzzling against Sam's neck. “Bobby had some extra blood bags he agreed to share.” He allowed his gaze to follow Sam's to the panic room, Dean frowning deeply as he thought about the bastard behind that iron door. “Are you ready to do this?”

That was the million dollar question. Sam had been asking himself that for the last thirty minutes, and he still hadn't come up with an answer. Not that he could really stall any longer. The sooner they got this done, the faster they could both move on with their lives. “I have to be,” Sam answered, biting into his bottom lip as he strode toward the panic room.

The door creaked as it slid open, iron scraping against iron. Sam felt his breath hitch in his throat as he stared at Alastair. Dean had taken the liberty of gagging him before they'd locked him in here, so Alastair wasn't able to speak. Not until Sam wanted him to, anyway. When he heard the door slam closed behind Dean, Sam jumped a little, eyes locking on Dean's moss greens. Having Dean here made him feel better – safer.

Slowly, Sam moved toward Alastair. His fingers trembled as he reached for the gag, yanking it out of Alastair's mouth. He then pressed his wrist to the vampire's lips. “Drink,” he ordered, teeth clenched in discomfort when Alastair's fangs tore into his flesh. It was so much different than when Dean drank from him. When it was Dean, he was gentle, caring. Alastair seemed like all he wanted to do was inflict pain.

After a few minutes, Sam pulled his arm away, wrapping the towel he'd had in his back pocket over the wound and tying it tightly. He hated him. Alastair was staring at him like he was next on the menu, and in that moment, Sam hated him more than he thought possible. 

When Alastair was lucid enough to realize the situation he was in, he smiled fondly at Sam. He was upset that they'd been reduced to this, but he supposed that every relationship had its ups and downs. And he was convinced that the two of them could get past this. All they had to do was get out of here, and as far away from Dean Smith as possible.

Before he had a chance to even lock gazes with Sam, Dean warned, “If you even _think_ about compelling him, I'll come over there and gauge out your eyes so fast, you won't know what hit you.” His body was rigid against the door where he stood, Dean's arms crossed over his chest. He didn't like this idea at all. But Sam had insisted that he be the one to land the killing blow. And Dean wasn't about to deny him this little pleasure.

“Oh, Dean,” Alastair cooed, eyes ticking over to the other vampire. “Always the hero. Always ready to swoop in and protect Sammy, no matter what. No matter who gets hurt in the process. Things really never change, do they?”

Alastair was trying to bait him into a fight – Dean knew that. But he wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “No one's going to get hurt,” he assured the vampire. “Except you.” A wide grin split across his features as Sam lifted the pistol, pointing it right at Alastair's chest. “You see, I wanted to keep you down here...rotting away with the dead man's blood in your system. But Sammy had other plans.”

Adjusting his grip on the gun, Sam took a deep breath. “I want you dead,” Sam bluntly explained. “I don't want to look at your putrid face ever again. But I wanted you lucid when it happened. I wanted to thank you for giving me my memories back. Because now Dean and I can live our lives how it was meant to be. And you can feel the pain I felt when you stabbed me with that silver.”

A look of pure rage came over Alastair's features when Sam reminded him of the silver. “That wasn't meant for you!” Alastair reminded. “I wanted to kill _him_! But you got in the way! I didn't realize that I'd hit you until it was too late!”

When Sam spoke, his voice held nothing but conviction. There was no remorse – just _power_. It had Dean adjusting himself in his suddenly too tight jeans. “I don't care,” Sam snapped. “I might not be able to make you feel what I felt all of those years with you, but I can watch you die. And that's the next best thing.”

Without another word, Sam pulled the trigger. The gun fell from his hand moments before Dean was on him. Sam groaned in pleasure as Dean crushed their lips together, one hand fisting in Sam's hair while the other gripped Sam's ass. “Dean,” Sam breathed, tearing his lips away from Dean's as his vampire pressed their bodies tightly together. “What're you doing?”

As if Sam didn't already know. “You're so cute when you're acting stupid,” Dean hummed against Sam's throat before his lips closed over Sam's pulse. “I want you. Right here – right now.” He didn't give Sam a chance to protest as he grabbed the hem of Sam's T-shirt. He all but ripped the fabric off Sam's body, the younger man's jeans and boxers soon following.

He wasted no time stripping out of his own clothes, his hand fisting in Sam's hair once more as he pulled him into another kiss. Dean's eyes locked on Alastair's as Sam kissed his way down his throat, continuing in a straight line down his chest before Sam was on his knees in front of Dean. The dying vampire was powerless to look away as Sam surged forward, taking Dean to the root into his mouth. 

A loud groan escaped Dean's lips when Sam took him in one go, swallowing around the tip of his dick. “God, Sammy,” he breathed, his head falling back in pleasure as he gently rocked his hips. Another obscene groan fell from Dean's lips when Sam's hand came up to fondle his balls, Sam allowing Dean to set a steady rhythm with his hips. “Fuck yeah, baby,” Dean moaned. “Don't stop.”

Only when Dean felt like he absolutely couldn't take anymore did he push Sam back. Sam blinked up at him with lust filled hazel eyes, and Dean almost lost it. Roughly, Dean pulled Sam to his feet, crushing their lips together once more. “Need you,” he groaned against Sam's skin moments before he shoved Sam against the wall. 

Sam barely had time to throw his hands out to catch himself before Dean had him pressed face first against the wall. “Dean,” Sam chastised, unable to help the moan that passed his parted lips when Dean started nipping and sucking at his neck and shoulder. He could feel Dean's hard cock pressing against his ass cheek, causing pleasure to shoot through his whole body. “Oh God, Dean, please...I need you.”

A hungry growl escaped Dean's lips when Sam begged for him like that. “Good,” he breathed against Sam's ear, tongue darting out to lick the shell. His foot kicked Sam's apart, Dean stepping behind the younger man and lining himself up. “Are you still good from earlier?” he asked, biting into his bottom lip as his fingers probed at Sam's hole.

When he felt how wet Sam still was from their session from earlier, Dean had to bite into his lip harder to keep from moaning again. “Damn, baby,” he whispered against Sam's neck, sucking Sam's skin into his mouth and nipping gently.

“Yeah, D'n,” Sam slurred, unable to keep his head from bobbing up and down. “M'ready. Still good. Please...don't keep me waiting.” He and Dean had a lot of time to make up for, after all. Two hundred years of not being able to have each other was _a lot_ of missed time.

But Dean wasn't going fast enough for Sam's liking. He felt the older man pressing the tip of his cock against his prepared hole, and Sam took the opportunity to move things along at his own pace. Using his grip on the wall, Sam shoved his hips back, breath leaving him in a _whoosh_ when the action had Dean buried to the hilt. “See?” Sam panted, a wide smirk on his lips. “I told you I was ready.”

For a second, Dean lost all train of thought when he was buried so quickly in Sam's tight heat. “Fuck, you're killing me,” Dean ground out, one hand moving to Sam's hip to keep the younger man from pulling another stunt like that. His fingers dug into the smooth surface of the wall beside Sam's head, Dean taking a few unnecessary, deep breaths to compose himself.

Hearing Dean's words, Sam couldn't help but chuckle. “You're already dead,” he reminded his boyfriend gently. “C'mon, quit stalling. Move.” He tried to move his hips, but Dean's grip prevented him from doing so. Sam whined in disapproval. “Dean, c'mon,” Sam mumbled. “Please move. I can take it. I'm good. Please.”

If there was one thing on this Earth that Dean just couldn't handle, it was Sam's begging. He caved almost immediately. Using the grip he had on Sam's hip, Dean held the younger man still as he pulled his hips back just slightly before rocking back into Sam. Just that small action was enough to drive him insane. Dean didn't understand how Sam managed to do these things to him. No one got under his skin like Sam Winchester.

As soon as Dean started moving, Sam knew he'd won this argument. Of course, he knew that he wasn't going to get to enjoy it like they'd been able to do in their bedroom, but he was going to make the most of it while it lasted. After all, they were in the panic room with Alastair – someone was bound to come down here and check on them when they didn't come back upstairs in a timely manner.

Dean didn’t need to be told twice. Still keeping his movements slow, Dean pulled out a little before sliding back in. He continued that rocking motion, sliding out a little further each time until he was pulling out almost all the way before slamming back into Sam. His fingers were leaving bruises on Sam’s hips from how tightly he was holding onto him, he was sure, but that wasn’t enough to make Dean stop. After all, Sam wasn’t complaining about it, and he seemed to be enjoying himself, so why spoil the moment?

Pressure and heat were coiling in Sam’s belly – he wasn’t going to last much longer with the way Dean’s cock was nailing his prostate with each push. He just needed one thing to give him that final shove over the edge. Reaching back with one hand, Sam gripped Dean’s hand and pulled it from his hip, bringing it in front of his body. “D-Dean…touch me. M’close…please?” he begged, maneuvering Dean’s hand so that it was almost touching his rock hard erection.

This was perfect. Sam was so damn tight and his inner muscles were squeezing Dean’s dick just right. There was no way he was going to last long. He was too caught up in his own feelings and sensations that he didn’t realize what Sam was asking until his fingertips brushed over Sam’s cock head, jolting him out of his own mind. Quickly, he wrapped his hand around his lover's cock, fist sliding from root to tip in time with his hips pounding into Sam's ass.

Although Sam and Dean had just had sex not three hours ago in the bedroom upstairs, he could feel his orgasm coming on him rapidly. “Dean,” he whimpered, his body trembling against his lover's. A deep groan of pleasure escaped his lips as his orgasm hit him, his warm, sticky fluid coating Dean's hand and splashing against the panic room wall.

When Sam came, his inner muscles clenched around Dean just tight enough to drag his own orgasm from him. As he came, Dean bit into Sam’s shoulder to keep from crying out. After all, they were in the panic room just underneath the living room where Bobby and Jo were. Luckily, they had been able to keep the noise level down, otherwise that could have been awkward. After all, Bobby and Jo were vampires – excellent hearing. 

As his orgasm subsided, Dean leaned against Sam, catching his breath while his cock slowly softened. “I love you,” he whispered, sucking Sam's earlobe between his teeth and giving it a small nip.

Unable to keep the smile off his lips, Sam wiggled against Dean until he was far enough away that Sam could turn. The iron walls were cold against his back as he gazed at his lover. “I love you, too,” he smiled, leaning in to capture Dean's lips with his own.

Once the kiss broke, both men moved to get dressed. Just as Sam was leaving the panic room, his phone rang. Dean turned toward him as Sam answered the call. “Hello?” There was a pause while his father spoke on the other line. “Yeah, Dad, I took care of it. There was a nest at an old warehouse a few towns over. They were just coming to Palo Alto for some fresh meat.”

While Sam continued to listen to his father speaking on the other line, he allowed his gaze to drift to Alastair's dead body. He wanted to be able to tell his parents the whole story, but he knew that they wouldn't understand. Someone like John Winchester just couldn't grasp that there was such a thing as a “good” monster. Not that Sam considered Dean a monster, but he knew that's what his father would think.

“Yes, Dad,” Sam repeated, rolling his eyes. “I told you that I took care of it. You can come here yourself and check, but it would be a huge waste of time.” Sam knew that his father was getting close to finding the demon who was responsible for his little brother's death, and he didn't see the point in trying to drag him off that case. “It's handled. Call me if you find anything else about this demon. You know I want in when you take it down.”

With a mumbled goodbye, Sam hung up the phone, smiling at Dean. “If my Dad happens to show up in Palo Alto and I'm not there, he's going to blow a gasket,” Sam complained. It wasn't that he didn't like Bobby, but he couldn't stay here in South Dakota. The weather alone was enough to make him cringe. He preferred warm weather. That's why he lived in California.

Chuckling softly, Dean wrapped his arm around Sam's waist, pulling him against his side. “And this couldn't possibly have anything to do with the fact that you're missing class because you were kidnapped by a deranged psycho.”

It wasn't hard to miss the blush that steeled over Sam's features when Dean found him out. “Okay, fine,” he mumbled. “Maybe school has something to do with it.” He leaned down to press his lips to Dean's in a brief kiss before he continued, “I won't pass law school by skipping classes, Dean. Besides, you know I have that interview coming up.”

Dean was well aware of the interview. “Yeah, I know,” he assured Sam. “Fine, we can go back to Palo Alto. But I'm blaming you if Bobby thinks we're trying to ditch him.” With that, Dean jogged up the steps, Sam quick on his heels.


End file.
